a poem for gaga

I wrote this poem half-asleep and sort of hungover this morning. It is Lady Gaga's 24th birthday, and I actually wrote it as an ode to New York, but since it seems highly appropriate, it became an ode to her and how she inspires me and my friends and our art. I love you New York, and I love you Lady Gaga.

happy birthday, gaga

saw a show last night in brooklyn
the lead singer was a girl
blonde
bangs
sparkly leotard
marching band majorette shit
i thought of gaga
doing this
just a few years ago
and patti
(with less sequins)
even more years ago
people have shaken new york
with their feet for years

inspired
we tromped to the L train
16 minute wait
fuck no
(why i won't live in brooklyn)
hailed a gypsy
wailed across the williamsburg
manhattan winked and took us in her arms
ludacris on the radio
cabbie laughed and cranked it
"oh my goddddddd you fucking rock"
would have loved a car yesterday in the sun
to just drive drive drive
above the city

fast forward
home
drunk
shower
i love finding the LES under my nails
after i
publish my first book
anthology
whatever
i will dedicate it to st. jerome
yes, the patron saint of libraries
but also the patron faint of rivington
where we danced in the dark
i bought a flashing nemo necklace
(four dollars totally worth it)
i found him there
and myself
under the disco ball

fast forward
bed
hungover
i want a (brooklyn) bowl
of cereal
time to go to the bodega