I ate the medicine    the blue pill    the red pill

 

the code to      The Matrix        the stupid

 

sunglasses     I ate Ray Ban         The Real World        I consumed
consumer surplus      goods and services

 

and when the economists         came I consumed

consumer courts        crowd-funded      my consumption

 

I ate 30 hot dogs       at every contest        in the old West
I ate the thirst      in our dirt

then the gold     ribbons

 

and the doors        we kicked in

and Dorothy       and her dog         and the storm

they rode in on

 

a hologram        of late stardom

 

for a year I only ate         what kid-me ate
my mother’s drag            of an American Spirit

 

self-portraits and graphite       masks and paper mache

 

I ate a Uhaul        I ate Denver
I ate the quartet playing       at the climax

 

of Titanic       I ate their dulcet tones     I ate the door
and both Jack and  Rose
sank

which

subsequently

lowered

its Rotten Tomatoes score       but I ate

the tomato-meter too

everything certified        fresh

 

and rotten           with plot holes
every       unsatisfying         non-sequitur

 

I planned a thirty-thousand       dollar wedding

 

and I ate it

I ate the dress       sprinkled the sequins

on the stationary

slurped Estes Park       Fall River

 

& the more         I ate the more        I felt full-

y        exhausted      all the chewing        and anticipation

of satiety             to wake up

 

craving salt

until finally         I turned

 

my hungry gaze

to myself—

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

GINGER AYLA (she/her) is a writer and poet who lives in Southern Colorado with her partner and their beloved troublemakers, Winnie, Olive, and Bug. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in PRISM International, Phoebe, Grist, Cleaver, Heavy Feather Review, and elsewhere, and has been nominated for the Best New Poets anthology. Currently a full-time freelance writer and editor, she’s fueled by coffee, nature, and reality TV. You can find other writings on Substack @gingerayla.

 

 

The art that appears alongside this piece is “The Land & Me, Fire in the Belly” by JONATHAN KENT ADAMS.