women run on the beach in california

Falsifications by Nolan Gray Allan

 

the air in California
smells like a florist’s shop, all green
leaves and crispness and eucalyptus,
people don’t seem to notice,
they seem too busy
fucking each other and then stabbing them
in the back over pointless things.
short skirts and shiny shoes
click clacking on weatherworn streets,
their glamour hiding something
no one wants to speak
about.
we drove across the Bay at night,
and the lights from the boats
shone across the water
and looked like columns
or pillars of rippling gold,
as if the docks stood above
a kingdom, Atlantis maybe,
that no one else wanted to see.
artificial features
plastered onto artificial people.
the symbolism seems trite
even to me.
hiding in plain sight, we wait.
and wait
and wait
and wait, until suddenly
we realize the stupidity of it all.
“FREEZE YOUR FAT AWAY”
printed on a billboard like a proclamation.
I muttered “holy shit” in a whisper
too quiet to be heard.
our eyes deceive just like any
other organ that makes sense of reality.
if we could just see farther, I think
things would be alright.
I read “Lord of the Flies”
in the cold shafts of morning
sunlight
and wondered
who would play Piggy in the remake.

 

*

More of Nolan’s work can be found at Noncanon Press, In Parantheses, and The Newer York. Nolan Tweets as Ornery Island.

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