SELF AS TRANSMISSION FROM THE SPACE AGE ❋ Mitchell King

I lost you in the riot—//maybe the future couldn’t fix
our problem—//—the technicolor lane in the gold millennium—//—      I wore rhinestones
and sequins because I was afraid to be naked around you—//—could not handle the light on my
body so I thought to reflect the beauty of your attention      back—//—     onto yourself —//—
the night

on the holodeck and the mirage of a brief city—//—hearing a
recording

of our own voices like the crystal wasn’t a moment away—//—from breaking—//—is this the poem
you asked me to stop writing? I couldn’t keep it from happening—//—          the year we were un-
navigated     and the wave that folded into water as soft as ribbon before the crash and

—//—there are many objects that can bring back the dead—//—

in this transmission—//—I am the space between stars—//—

walking through walls as walls                                    are no barrier for
this—//—imaginary body

—//—the lake was overflowing                             with bodies—//—

the beer on your father’s boat—//—my battery is dying—//—

remember when we lost our names?

—//—one long road with music in your red car—//—my shadow is a man catching up with me—//—
how many baptisms can a lake contain         and        who is floating in the water?