ancestry.com fucks with my mind my people
could be Norwegian so there’s no proof I’m brown enough it’s not paranoid to think you’re
sponsored by google maps or intellectually jinxed right now but just trust me Frank Ocean’s

Blond album deserves its majesty the song title Nights for instance and I’m really into this
Zoomer Dora Jar. Her guitar powers are front page genius and she supported Billie Eilish
in her 2022 tour Happier than Ever right now they are in New Zealand together like pure

Euphoria-white-girl-lightening-on-the-heart-full-rich-grandpa. After a Mojito in Box Park
I myself met Dora in her world flat. I pretended not to know about my apologies and body
wearing a little red heart in its chest it was literally casual as she prepared a risotto.

I was there because I came by with my ex who’s a friend of hers, he’s a big deal producer
since he did Phoebe Bridger’s strings for 50k or something and we’re pretty good friends still
so bond into the moon then post it. I’m not sure if there’s something toxic or Buddhist

about that but I know it was only after things between me and him blew over I came to some
big realisations, one being a girl not Girling is an unadorned power so why resist a star like
configuration when my spiralling America’s could light the room so red blue and money?

Since then, I wake up and look in the bathroom-mirror like O clean bowls and love of gold.
And jewels. Take your time. Me? My faith, it’s head and tight jeans discretely leaning into
strangers, asking their name until my future found me offering a lighter to a man

who goes by the forename King in the stadiums. By 4 a.m. he was walking me back to his via
sunrise, he was like ‘Frank just texted’ and I was like ‘who’s Frank’ and he was like ‘Ocean’.
So I was relieved to reach his sofa and I let him lift my skirt to affirm

‘that’s not a white girl ass’. The whole world was my Daddy by this point and Boss Baby
played on the mounted flat screen TV across the room for further ambiance yet all I could think
about was sweet sweet agency and the CEO of Mumsnet at her holiday home

in Antigua. I once shared a hot tub with her daughter there who explained ‘It’s better
to be searching for the light, than be in it’. I just kept silent in response to the star-tropic
surround sound sipping perfectly chilled Rosé, waiting for the world to burn behind us,

and for us, which I imagine is a feeling she’s so used to she doesn’t know she’s felt it yet especially
with all those hand-picked cantaloupes and orchids for the kitchen just planted and
sweetening along with the compressed face of the Persian cat cast into the lounge as god’s

favourite mistake. When I found myself mid-air it was on the flight home, I could confirm
there’s not much between this world and the next and I seem to have slipped through
the chasm. So I let one nearly white hand send a text to the whole family like thank u

for having me while the other nearly white hand retrieved a spoon from the sleepless flight
attendant the milk in the coffee cup pluming which reminds me I’m a model and a dancer and
a producer and a DJ are you listening did you read to the end will you blow my voice a kiss.

Image © Ashok Boghani