WHAT A GIRL WANTS

Ali Royals

I want One Direction to get

back together for real this time.

I want a base tan before summer

starts so I don’t burn. I want more odes

to Baltimore, more babies in sunglasses,

more poems written about my friends.

I want permanent springtime,

everyone with good luck on their face,

blossoms floating off the branch like

confetti fluttering down a few

songs too early. I want that on ice,

I want fries on the side,

I want more friends with boats,

more traffic cones inexplicably placed

on the hoods of parked cars.

I want to smoke one cigarette on the overpass

outside the Spy Museum with Mags,

I want to freeze my family in time so

not one of us ages (except maybe my sister),

I want this gift wrapped, I want to know

how and why all movie theater carpets are the same.

I want peace on earth and mercy mild

wings, mild weather, wild flowers

in a papery bouquet. I want

whatever you’re having,

I want your t-shirt sleep in,

your hand in mine.

I want them to stop remaking the good stuff

and just make good stuff again.

I want that to resonate with the audience,

I want more luchadores eating Lunchables™,

I want lemonade with crunchy ice

and a little sweater to

throw over my shoulders

when the sun goes down.

I want to go back to being the only Jew

at a weeklong Christian summer camp

singing Serendipity on the upper porch.

I want to be a local at some café

I casually live above. I want the heirloom

bible returned to that family from the

street lamp flyer who had it stolen from their car and

I want to know if other people feel this crazy..?

I want to bring in the dancing lobsters,

I want more weird uncles, I want forgiveness

(for a moment) or pity (probably.)

I want to Irish exit, but I want one last song,

one last dance to send the evening packing,

one last lap around the bases

before the ballpark lights go dark.

I want to read it and weep for

I have no words left to conquer.

Ali Royals loves true stories and hates writing in the third person. She’s a poet, nonfiction essayist, and time-capsulist from Baltimore. Her work has been published in the L.A. Review of Books and her column, The Subway Surf Report, is published monthly on Byline.

@aliroyals