FOUR POEMS by MORGAN BOYLE
on becoming a ghost in the south loop
chicago isn't a place you go
chicago is a place that happens to you
chicago as circumstance
as the last stop on the greyhound
the place the conference won't stop being
chicago it’s the midwest new york
chicago half city half strip mall
and it's not as hot as it sounds
chicago is behind you on the subway stairs
chicago walks outta a dark alley in nebraska
chicago likes your shoes
chicago sticks weird
get stuck in chicago & what do you dream of
what's left of a soul in a soulless place
the hotel pool on the 8th floor burns your eyes
this skin you've got was never meant for this much chlorine
turn it down
if the brain worms get in what's the issue
you're still in chicago
trust me it can't get worse
what's left but to forget the physical form
the physical form can’t leave chicago
imprint the soul
speed up the future
become the ghost of the hotel you stay in
you’ve got 18 floors the lobby is beautiful
marry the best parts of you to the best parts of the city
chicago outside won’t stop raining
fix your hair, find your haunts
the hotel can be your forever
start wandering
there’s a ballroom on every floor if you want
and no one’s locking the doors
garish hotel carpet your toes don't even graze
the conference rooms on the 4th floor are connected
as business infinite
water coolers sounding the same
full but the rooms are empty and who drinks anymore even
phones each individual numbered call
conference
room and room and room and room and just when you've forgotten the existence of sky
chicago ends in windows
a weak reflection, projection rather,
washed out light you're frowning in the window
misery reflects back projected onto rainy chicago
circle back the way you came the escalator,
another ghost,
gleams, rides itself, alone
to a mirrored ballroom
set perfectly with chairs and no one
is allowed to dance in chicago
the math of it all, the tables
it’s evenly spaced and the chandeliers are gleaming down
you are still alone
please sit down for the love of god sit down
chicago is asking to suck on your toes
let it, watch it in the mirror across the room
watch it in the other mirror across the room
if you look hard enough the mirror is reflected in the mirror
and you and chicago are caught infinite in the act
best of all
chicago is good at sucking on toes
the room is red the cutouts are curtained in gold
who reclines on benches behind gold curtains
in a room of no one dancing?
and it's the fanciest thing you've ever seen
soak in it as your toes are soaking in the mouth of chicago
the whole of you prunes wrinkling
the mirrors exist for this moment
remove your foot
climb the steps
there’s a platform
you can stand on
look over the podium to the empty room
you’re in south loop, my god
what’s it even mean?
are you the ghost yet?
how do you check?
the infinite just keeps coming
you can't because no one comes in chicago
step down
you never spoke
you’ve only reflected in mirrors that someday
won’t reflect you
or maybe they will
what do i know of ghosts?
i haven’t died yet
i haven’t had the opportunity
hate chicago
die here anyway
i’m gonna haunt the palmer house hotel
i’m gonna recline on the benches in gold
i’m gonna float past the rows of chairs in the rooms that are too big
i’m gonna join the sounds in the walled off stairwell
do nothing but move silent
move silent, reflect out
Hot Girls Keep Wanting To Buy My Cat Tree On Facebook Marketplace
The Hot Girls are asking
Hi, is this available?
because that is the prompt that Facebook Marketplace
gives you when you are inquiring about an item for sale
it is said that every five seconds another hot girl asks
Hi, is this available?
on Facebook Marketplace
every five minutes I am the person
the hot girl is asking
she wants to buy my cat tree
my cat tree is very beautiful and interesting
i bought it off a website with ai reviews and
instagram bot followers
i like when the bot followers leave comments on cat tree instagram posts
(“thank you so much for all your spiritual guidance
my boyfriend is back to me and we will be getting married soon
and this is all your doing, thank you for making my dream come through”)
they had photoshopped these eerie expensive squash faced
cats onto the tree and i thought it was all so beautiful
every time i go to the vet they tell me my cat is chubby
the photoshopped squash faced cats look so happy and fluffy but lean
at the same time
(unrealistic beauty standards but for cats
i love the internet we have created something insane)
maybe if i bought this cat tree kikko would also look
happy and fluffy but lean
besides, the cat tree looks so beautiful like modern art
i could put it in my living room
and kikko and i could gaze at it
and he could climb on it
while i sat in my kitchen that had absolutely no cockroaches
in it at anytime at all ever
and both of us would be so happy and fluffy but lean
i realize now that the photoshopped cats are
not even real cats
just fully computer generated cats without interior lives
the computer cats, ai reviews, and bot followers sold me the cat tree
a sucker may be born every minute
but we never talk about what they do after birth
they buy cat trees on the internet
cat trees that are two thirds of the size advertised
and are goddamn hell to put together
when i put kikko on the tree it rocked a bit
and he didn’t fit on the platforms
and he looked so sad
and not happy, fluffy, but lean at all
all of the hot girls on facebook marketplace are messaging
Hi, is this available?
and yes it is because
none of these hot girls have
come physically to my apartment to pick it up
the hot girls don’t have hands with which to hold the cat tree
they don’t have feet to walk to my apartment
the hot girls can’t drive
the hot girls are computer generated, digital ideas
the hot girls don’t have interior lives
they cease to exist when the screen goes dark
they don’t even have friends online
go to their profiles
see for yourself
they’re so lonely in their high towers
so lonely in the series of tubes
all of the hot girls are busy this week
they have important jobs and many tasks
the hot girls offer to overnight me a cashier’s check
and throw down an extra hundred for my time
as a bot following computer cat believing ai review enjoying cat tree buying sucker
i find the stories tempting, dreamy even
i love a surprise hundred dollars and i am a fool
they offer to pay me extra on the check for a moving service
after depositing the cashier’s check
i’d shift some of the money into the movers’ account
the check would bounce, the check will always bounce
it’s your own money in the movers’ account
the mover’s account that does not belong to the movers
what movers
there was never any movers
and you would realize this while waiting for them alone in your apartment
the cat tree, unmoved, sitting, waiting
a monument to stupidity, to suckerdom
to the fact that no real person on Facebook Marketplace is actually dumb enough to want it
but i know this
i don’t accept the hot girls’ checks
instead, i talk to them like friends
i don’t want them to be lonely
i tell them that i went out with catherine last night
that i’m a little hungover
that i fucked up paying for all the gatorade i bought at the corner store
and looked like a fool in front of Shelby who works there every day
and is so lovely and knows how i take my coffee and who met my mom
the hot girls don’t respond
they never speak to me again
their profiles will likely be deleted soon
and they will spawn again fully formed
born beautiful at 25 friendless on the world wide web
the only purpose in their lives, to want things
to question availability
to offer money for your troubles
and to be too busy, so many digital tasks
so much to do, a social life so jam packed with no one
that someone
someone will be there to pick it up
decadence is
i'm trying to live luxury
i'm trying to live luxury
i'm 29 and this is it
i've been drinking outta 18th century vases
i've been drinking outta depression era glass
i guess it's just
i've been drinking
it's all green and pink
and mb a little gold
when i'm feeling less than
i never had goldschlager
i feel like i'm too old
i heard it tastes bad
but i feel that
mb it's something i gotta do
mb this is my one chance
let a lady shit gold!
i'm 29 and i'm trying to live luxury
jeffrey bezos spent 10 life minutes in orbit
came down and laughed like a supervillian on the news
umbrellaless and burning at the rockaways
i ate too much fancy mushroom chocolate and swam in decadence
mushrooms are cheap typically
but this, this was $45
$45! more expensive than i thought
breath caught in my throat when i bought it
dark and handmade pressed with lavender flowers and sea salt
and whacking me out into the sky on the rockaways
the same sky bezos rocketed into
lived luxury
worn in luxury
shabby luxury
is that sexy? can holes in velvet be a winter vibe?
lived shabby luxury arrested by 9 cops outside mad carpeted dive tam o shanter
crusty velvet shedding faux fur purple lipstick big big hair just massive in the cold
glam until you're in the back of the cop car
glam until you're under the fluorescent in the station
glam until one girl arrested that night of a few looks at those cops and asks during mugshots
"yoooo we're high cut babes, can we get a group photo?"
left the drunk tank to stretch across my new-to-me craigslist queen bed
never been able to starfish alone like that
the sun came through the windows and
it all felt bad
it all felt opulent
don't look under the lux carpet
don't sniff the lux carpet
did true tacky luxury die in the last century
what is decadence anyways
decadence as 3am oatmeal cream pie dinner
decadence as someone's good pheromone filled stench
decadence as acid in prospect park on a workday
decadence as a rich asshole in space
spent a lifetime dreaming of stupid dumbo decadence
decadence high ceilings columns mourning dead tigers
decadence a dress the color of sky
chintz fabric on the spanish steps and love love love
but i don't look good in light blue
washed out not my color
youth is full of mistaken decadence
dumb ideas of what’s gonna be
who goes to black tie parties? i blame movies
either i'm tempering dreams i once had
or i've learned enough to dream myself outta disappointment
all i wanna do is drift into the sea
is that lux? decadent?
is that modelo in the shower in a pink depression goblet?
i'm 29 and trying to exist in opulence
my commute takes up 3 hrs of my day
my commute takes up 3 hrs of my day
my commute takes up 15 hrs of my week
my commute might be killing me according to articles i read online
i'm trying to live luxury
i'm trying so hard
but there's filth under the table
i've baselessly convinced myself there are cockroaches behind the stove
i'm trying to live luxury
but shit's unraveling and i'm drunk again!
the hills are growing & i haven't vacuumed in weeks
luxury is the iced coffee that i keep buying from the bodega
luxury is crying on the fire escape in the sun
luxury is my own jerked movements on the roof
luxury is the city across the east river
everybody’s just trying to gaze onto something big and true
something decadent
i'm trying to live luxury
i'm trying to live luxury
i'm 29
last night at the corner store in the east village
i wanted so badly so desperately to
stick my hand in the bucket of loose fresh eggs on the counter
move it around within the egg bucket
listen to the sound of the eggs as they touched one another
briefly, eggly, the sound that only eggs make the sound
that when you hear it you think
‘oh yes that’s the sound that eggs make when they touch’
i deeply wanted to hear that sound coming from the eggs
all loose, in the bucket, sitting on the counter, next to the
cigarettes
colleen said the eggs were loosies and i laughed
dylan asked if i purchased any and i said no
we were there to buy cigarettes and were going to a bar
the eggs wouldn’t have liked the bar and i wouldn’t
have liked the eggs being there with them being so
young and so fresh eggs are such a vulnerable liability
while i purchased cigarettes i asked catherine to take
photos of the eggs for me and she took 7 photos all
from the same angle but the zoom was different and
looking at the egg photos from the fog of this morning’s
hangover i realize that there is a crumb in the egg bucket
a large pastry crumb from a pastry eaten over the egg bucket
this is new york city what the fuck that’s how you get
cockroaches what if cockroaches come for the crumb and
lay eggs on the eggs how disgusting eggs would be in the
eggs and none of the eggs are in the fridge and who eats
pastry over the eggs and catherine and i left the store we
bought no eggs we never made them make a sound
we smoked the cigarettes and stood on second avenue
and there were coffee cups just
absolutely everywhere
Morgan Boyle (she/her) is a poet from Nebraska currently based in Ridgewood, Queens. Her work can be found in FENCE, HAD, Anti-Heroin Chic, and dream boy book club, among other journals, as well as in Peach Mag’s Something Right Here anthology. She can be found on IG @starlight.barking and Twitter @morganlefay777, where she was briefly banned for cyberbullying the moon.