Heir Apparent

Issue #37: July 2015

En Route | Dana Levin

one day, from morning to dream

1.Morning Drizzle, Chicken Little

Man in self-argument crossing the street:

“You better wash your mouth out with soap!” “No, you better—”





another man ventured through thickening air—

2.Office Hours

You changed your religious affiliation to FOOD






D played BYLINED for 72 points!

D played CANOODLE for 96 points!

D played ENABLERS for 65 points!

Scrabble?” —student head through the doorway—

did he think you’d be plotting against carnage—



interactions with chairs your corporation of atoms its forced mergers

with air and food was it any wonder

that extending a hand meant “‘Tears,’” you said,

tapping the stanza—“Don’t they often

accompany ‘heart’”?

4.Someone Else’s Cake

She frowned off the sugared flower.

Asked if they’d used butter to beat

the batter.

Did it suffer from nuts or eggs or fruit?

She dug her thumb

into the bother.

5.Sixth and Cumae

Some aftermath camped atop a subway grate, some

boxed-n-muttering, perpetually

hungry and insane—

“You look like you want me, but you

don’t—” she spat in disgust. “Go make technology happy.”


Lips pursed—right index finger

tipping the chin—the look of


7.Happy Hour

—a feeling in your body as if you were flinging up

handfuls of coins—

your body rushing back into your arms—

“I dunno, I wanted it to be more—” he

eddied his fingers, punctuated stars.

8.Going Under

“You cannot get ready,” her vinyl purse,

“you cannot get ready for God, you cannot get ready,” her stout legs,

her Sunday-gloved

grip on the hour—

Shoes black

patent leather low


Tapping, “you cannot get ready,” she dug

into the tunneling train a wide


for blessing you and judging you, how you weren’t

“ready for God”—


deeming you lost—

You watched her purse swing

under the East


9.A Book Before Bed

…Despite this expense, some epitaphs were resolutely nihilist: ‘Into nothing from nothing how quickly we go;’ while non fui, fui, non sum, non curo (I was not, I was, I am not, I don’t care) was so common that it was often abbreviated to simply nffnsnc…


ta ta for now—

10.Mon Semblable, Mon Frere!

—inexplicable clown wig lurching away with a haul-swing of coats—