13 Ways of Looking at Blue Ivy


13 Ways of Looking at Blue Ivy

Among twenty angry cabbies,
the only moving thing
was Blue Ivy’s Chanel baby stroller.

You don’t know it yet, but one day
you will watch over Gotham from the throne.
Your father made the blueprint.

O, Illuminati royalty,
why do you imagine fiery birds?
Do you not see the noble pigeon
that walks among you?

On September 4th, Queen Bey celebrates
her birthday in the Hamptons.
I celebrate mine with the cat and a pinot noir.

The night before the Met Gala: a swift tailor
whirls through the tableau.

Brooklyn’s hipsters weren’t hipsters
before your hipsters weren’t, but there’s still the Nets.
You coo at Garnett from center court.

Goodbye, arrogant record collection –
I sold you for twice your worth. I’ll take
“Drunk in Love” over Waits, Wilco, Westerberg.

When you can’t get any bars on your phone
shake it in your fist like a rattle,
curse the sky.

Those choo choo trains have teeth;
care for others who twist
in the clutches.

You won’t get stop-and-frisked
for stealing wi-fi. And when you see him
on 29th, repeat: I will not ask Alec Baldwin for a photo.

I know the noble Englishes
of the Upper West Side one percent,
but I know, too, that the rats are also part of what I know.

A man and his iPad
are one.
A man and his iPad and his Beats by Dre
are one.

From a bodega radio (and chant this like a prayer at sundown):
“In a New York minute, everything can change.
In a New York minute, things can get pretty strange.”


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