Killing Time at Karaoke

Has everything I’ve ever done

been just an imitation of something else?

I’ll never be remembered, I’ll always

sabotage any romance I ever have

because of some warped thing inside

of me that I’ve never contended with,

inherited from the colonizer and the colonized.

I don’t know, I think I read that somewhere.

In many ways I am a poser and a loser and a jerk.

Why did I do this? Why did I ever do anything?

I’m at karaoke taking sips from a stranger’s

drink because the bartender refuses to look at me.

I leave remnants of myself on the glass and try to

wipe it off with my trench coat.

I feel overcast. Like I’m about to burst.

Every Thursday at midnight

the KJ chooses a name

from the bucket and that person gets

to sing “Dancing on My Own.

I never get picked. He turns off

the lights and takes out his

cell phone and makes a strobe light

by putting his hand in front of it

and moving it up and down.

I never get picked except for this time.

My name echoes throughout the room

and this time, people are looking at me,

smiling empathetically, like I’m some kind of burn victim.

They are clapping. They are woo-ing.

I’m surrounded by so many friends.

I get up on stage. The music begins.

And then. Poof. It’s the same room but it’s

not the same room. The KJ has been

replaced by the She.

She’s gotten ahold of the audio system.

The speakers blast my insecurities

in my mother’s voice. I feel hungover.

I understand that I am in hell.

I ask her, What do you want.

What do you really really want?

and she begins to duplicate.

I’m staring at myself

surrounded by myself.

I’m trapped in a room

with me. Somewhere

among all of me

I can hear

Selena singing.

She pushes past herself,

trying to concentrate

on her voice.

Suddenly, she’s in a flashing hallway.

All of the Shes are chasing her

but only as fast as she can run,

which isn’t that fast.

She’s in the karaoke

place where she had her quinceañera.

Rooms and rooms of

single karaoke booths.

Places where one can be vulnerable

without being too vulnerable.

She arrives at a front desk and

there is her precious You.

She can’t believe it.

It’s really You.

But he is busy now.

All dial-up and mixed signals.

But then, oh! The You disappears

and she is locked in a room

filled with screens.