J.J. Abrams Talks to Himself in the Mirror

Never leave your gun on the side table

Red lips exist to ignite dirty bombs,

veiled Cloverfield threats.

Take a tumble, explode the slickest bullet train,

dynamite in vest pocket,

powder puff magic in tween time

release capsules.

I gave Jennifer Garner a pink bike for her birthday.

I cannot even begin to think about

writing that many Alias scripts again.

Wear pleather:  people marvel

at the heated quad.

Visit a closed set vibration whispering under Pac Sun.

Birth your own American monster.

((replaces floss))

East Coast theater needs a Patton Oswald script doctor.

I am never out.

I am always talking to a transatlantic Tom Cruise.

I am a redacted Wikipedia spy.

A mother is eternally vulnerable.

I am one of the fifty under fifty.

All millennial texting is viral code

for Adult Swim Star Trek polar bear therapy.

I like converse slip-ons.

I killed off Adrienne Barbeau’s

character in Escape from New York.

I was seven years old.

Be a trap door robot.

How many soft loving thoughts die

at my metal feet?

Still, inspiration flings itself

at my in-box towers.

Still, I strive for affection from a dead father.

© Ira Joel Haber

Jennifer MacBain-Stephens went to NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts and currently lives in the DC area with her family. She is the author of six chapbooks. The most recent ones are forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press, Crisis Chronicles Press, and Shirt Pocket Press. Her first full length poetry collection is forthcoming from Lucky Bastard Press. Recent work can be seen / is forthcoming at, Pretty Owl Poetry, Yes, Poetry, Gargoyle Magazine, Jet Fuel Review, glitterMOB, Pith, So to Speak, Apple Valley Review, Kind of a Hurricane Press, Freezeray, Entropy, Right Hand Pointing, and Hobart.

For more, visit: http://jennifermacbainstephens.wordpress.com/.

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