Caroline Crumpacker
End Road Concussive Event
Car radio love song
driving out past intention
and singing the static between stations .
I love you too,
that one-trick pony
of trying to have a girlhood
an ambient refrain of head on porcelain.
She is at the perfume hours and hours
assembling a way of being
a smothered creation
repurposed as endless creation.
That song is an assemblage of our abilities
for repetition,
an alliance between
all the ways of being
expressed as one attachment.
We enter here: looking at
one long relation
repurposed as everything we are —
trying to have a way
and having had a way .
That song: It’s been forever.
There is no exact expression for this,
and so the yearning.
She wears the perfume called Garçon
which smells almost like a meeting of the minds.
I wear Shadows which is nothing less than
what I was hoping to accomplish.
And here we are, love song, everything
you do we are always doing,
a kind of desultory program we tune into
as if the tuning were a location
and who we try to be is there.