godfather tapi bukan didi kempot
harum payau sungai hudson berlimpah darah yang aku tak tahu dari mana sleeping with the fishes kata orang-orang itali mafia bagaikan godfather – kadang kubayangkan bagaimana rasanya, al pacino bisa saja menampar diane keaton ketika dia tahu tentang aborsinya di godfather 2, kadang kuingin tahu rasanya jadi orang bangsat yang tak pernah peduli perasaan orang lain, memainkan dan menarik bagaikan anak sd dengan jepret karet es nutrisari. aku suka bilang “kenapa sih gue harus jadi cancer moon” mengapa aku terlahir harus banget bawa perasaan orang lain layaknya air di lekukan tangan, se-hati hati mainan 17-an masuk pensil ke dalam botol. semua itu hanya permainan katanya. mungkin aku lebih nyaman melihat semua ini bagai permainan seperti al pacino tapi akulah diane keaton dan semua ini sungai hudson, mengalir dari adirondacks ke laut atlantik, dengan tubuh tubuh malang di bawahnya sleeping with the fishes.
(new jersey, 2023)
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hidup mati real estate
ketika aku pulang nanti teman baikku akan bersandar di bahu suaminya, suami yang baru dua hari jadinya, sembari bercerita tentang kpr, cicilan rumah, spousal visa, cicilan mobil, keluarga berencana. teman baikku yang satu lagi akan berbicara tentang hari minggu tiga tahun belakangan berpegangan tangan dengan pacarnya di gbi gading serpong lalu makan nasi campur di ruko sebelah. mungkin aku akan angkat jari tentang bule gondrong ganteng yang bercumbu denganku tiap dua minggu di brooklyn dengan ludah, kretek, anggur merah, dan kondom berantakan di kamarku. tapi apakah itu indah? stabil? apakah hidup di perumahan la casa grande new bsd city lebih tepat untukku, dengan suami yang kunikahi di umur 25 dan tiap minggu ngapel di aeon mall?
aku bersandar di pundak temanku. mungkin ini percakapan untuk hari nanti.
(brooklyn, 2023)
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cellophane mr. cellophane did i do it for you
tiap rabu pagi kulahap bacon egg and cheese, kuning telurnya cabul di jari-jariku, lalu kubuka ponselku, 0 notifikasi, tidak ada yang menginginkan tubuhku pada saat ini (9:16 – 9:40) mereka selalu berdusta di tempat lain, aku sering bertualang tapi tak pernah di pikiranku sendiri (9:16 – 9:40) kuintip layar rekan kerjaku, berang-berang berenang di siaran langsung monterey bay aquarium, berang-berang berpegangan tangan tanpa ponsel atau notifikasi sama sekali, apakah mereka pernah merasa seperti siluman dengan 300 orang menonton di layar internet? terkadang aku merasa seperti berang-berang berenang di siaran langsung, tapi tiap rabu pagi kulahap bacon egg and cheese cabul dan akupun cabul (9:16 – 9:40) tanpa notifikasi di ponselku.
(new york, 2023)
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park avenue tuesday
bacon egg and cheese in my hand, wishing i was naked in somebody’s bed. not another day of unread emails and watered-down cups of coffee ahead. the pack of menthols in my pocket i bought for a friend bore witness to microsoft teams meetings explaining sql to stakeholders on spreadsheets. at lunchtime, i walked out of my building, a car swerved in front of me life flashed before my eyes. suddenly i am dustin hoffman in midnight cowboy, flinging the bras d’honneur. hey i’m walkin’ here. they’re rebuilding the jp morgan building, every day the steel beams grow taller and taller. i grabbed a gyro and sandwich ate it in two minutes because who gives a fuck, i walked down a church basement where swedish aunties munch on their cinnamon buns. i sat there with them in my bibi andersson moment until one of them started talking about how good a funny girl was that sunday. none of that swedish brooding you see in the criterion collection, no more sorrow and anguish, it is a time of joy and tap dancing, and i believe it, i want to believe it, the tea ran cold and the cinnamon bun untouched on that plate as i tried to make myself believe, yet every day the steel beams grow taller and taller on park avenue.
(new york, 2022)
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dollar store conor oberst with a bandcamp account
the satanic bible on your mantle and the tao te ching on your nightstand – you dread, yet await anxiously, the cloudy day you bury your old dog in your backyard – death comes swift but it will be tardy. the clouds hover over brower park, where i waited for you, struggling with no sense of direction, cold feet and cold weather. you gutted your apartment a few years back, revealing the carriage tracks hidden under. i lay down in my wholeness, embracing words pacing out of your mouth like horses, in bed you act exactly like how one would act on stage i thought as you told me of your ancestry, listing down gravestones like groceries.
we hate lou reed, but john cale’s okay. the more you get high, the more you refer to yourself in the third person, your middle name slipped out of your lips (i could’ve cracked a security question). when you sing your john prine you have that southern twang i used to imagine in my visions of america – slow and calculated, aware of its share of pain.
the more i think of when you touch me, the more i’m willing to be used by you. kick me to the curb, drag me through the asphalt. i’ll wait for you, on your couch, a glass of wine in my right hand, our legs barely touching. the old dog heavily heaved next to me, awaiting his death. in the distance, john prine sings: summer’s end is around the bend just flying.
(brooklyn, 2023)
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Editor: Moch Aldy MA
