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1 poem

by Alana M. Kelley

Alana M. Kelley (b. 1993) is a writer and visual artist from Buffalo, New York. Kelley holds an A.A. in Fine Arts and a B.A. in English, with a Visual Studies minor from the University at Buffalo. She is the author of several self-made chapbooks and zines and has had work featured in Peach Mag, Ghost City Press, BlazeVOX [books], and elsewhere. You can find her on twitter @alanamkelley and on Instagram @alanamkel.

an object in motion tends to stay in motion

I watched Silence of the Lambs for the first time yesterday
What does it mean
If I think everything is a love story?
Anthony serial-killer-socio-path Hopkins tells Jodie Foster,
“The world’s more interesting with you in it.”
If that isn’t a metaphor for relationships
Then I don’t know what is
The movie taught me the word covet
It taught me that I covet everything
But not in the selfish brat way
In the looking-longingly-for-my-husband-to-come-home-from-sea
I knew that already
But now I have a new word for it
I don’t think it translates the way I think it does
But I just like saying it
I’m always feeling guilty
About thoughts I haven’t even had
My old iPhone 6s never had enough storage space
For more than one page of apps
My new iPhone XR has a lot of storage space
It is giving me too much freedom
It is giving me the benefit of the doubt
My apps are spilling over onto the next page of my phone
I keep forgetting about them
Out of sight out of mind
They had to have meant something to me
When I downloaded them
You are out of sight
But why are you still fucking here
You don't still mean something to me
I feel as though I now have the power
to leave all the people who have already left me
Hindsight only counts in terms of points
for my own small ego
And not for my current state of not-well-being
Kind of like those gold stars in school
The ones that didn’t actually amount to anything
They’re only there
for your own small ego
I find the gold stars and macaroni shells of my childhood on a beach in California
I use Blockitecture to remodel the memories of my life
I build us a house out of Lincoln Logs
I fumble to connect the wooden road pieces in the right direction
This is the only way
To lead you back to me
I have now built an entire city
What’s the name for the meandering shape of a roller coaster?
The loop part is called a
That makes it sound too soft
And too inviting
It’s all very misleading
For something that can be so terrifying
I guess that’s the point
But then again
What is the point?
The clothoid is described as  
An upside down tear drop
I’ve never related to a representation so hard
If I was a roller coaster
Would I be made out of wood or steel?
Probably wood
I am so permeable
It isn’t even funny

The first hill of a roller coaster is always the highest point
If that isn’t a metaphor for relationships
Then I don’t know what is
After the highest point
Friction and drag immediately begin draining all the energy
and fucking up absolutely everything
If that isn’t a metaphor for relationships
Then I don’t know what is
Gravity is one of the only things
That keeps things going
Everything is full of so much potential energy
You don’t even know
I don’t need anyone else to push me off the top
I can push myself off the top of everything
I always have
I am no longer talking about roller coasters
I am only trying to tell you
To be the type of person
you think the person you’re changing for

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