about the author

Alexis Pope lives in Ohio. Her work can be found, or is forthcoming, in PANK, > kill author, NAP, trnsfr, Red Lightbulbs, and elsewhere.

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Where The Pony Is Named Akron

Alexis Pope


I said Forget my face but what I meant was I’ll forget yours. I’m forgetting it all right now. You’re already the image in the back window of the cab but I’m not turning around to watch as you get smaller. There was a man in the corner store yesterday that reminded me of you, except not you. His belly was round, his eyes black. Nothing like you, but for some reason he caught me and I watched him the whole way to the counter.


Buying Raisinettes is not the same anymore, but they still melt. I find myself thinking about racecars and how I was always the passenger. You will see me again, but it will be different. I will forget your name. I will tell you You look great and lie. You will tell me nothing and I will wish you had said something romantic so I could think about it after I turn away.


Before you turn old forget something other than everything. Leave Akron and buy a pony. Name it Mia, like that pet deer we always wanted. Before you leave Akron walk the pony down West Market and annoy the five people sitting outside the coffee shop. Pretend there’s somewhere better you’re heading even though there’s nowhere you could possibly be walking towards. Better yet, name that pony Akron and take her somewhere other than Akron. Let her run. Let her eat all the sugar she wants. Let her lick the back of your hand. Just don’t name her after me.

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