Ailish Hopper

Somewhere in Delaware, on the way to NYC, I realize:  radio lives. Good, independent

shit: real DJs, turning up songs on albums I’ve forgotten, or never seen, Pulling stars

from an endless, black-vinyl sky. The drive

shortens to a string

Moments: 12:14 pm, before the DelMem Bridge: Jawbox, “Something Must Break”

2:53, in PA, Laurie Anderson, The Record of the Moon. That night, Lincoln Plaza

with my kids, it’s dark, fountain lit from a far off source

like a moon

each of us,  in the crowd, a sun     and none of us the center    I am thinking about

Sharon Harper’s “Moon Studies and Star Scratches #6”  Night skies  my next

book’s cover   My lovers’ faces    I watch for new movements, spark-stars.   3:42

New Jersey:  Dirty Beaches,  “Lone Runner.”    I’m a year from having left my marriage

all it’s true,   rare history   — all the B sides.     4:21, near the city,  bring me

a higher love     Star-studded the backgrounds:    Linda Ronstadt,  James Taylor,

Chaka Khan.    But I’m still thinking    of Laurie Anderson:   “Record of the time.  This is

the time.  And this is the record of the time.”