straight girls in and out
wait on the bed while i try on every
shirt in my closet
as it were
your tits are falling out of your bra,
sweetie
i hate that word
is this hot?
mmhmm

let's take the 85 to tenth street
and meet a weak and passive man at
the super taqueria
d�nde est� el ba�o, pap�
said the white girl
getting drunk in a small garage getting
ash all over the bed trying to hold
a pretty junkie in my arms
while she tries to undo my pants
the weak and passive man fumbles for
his keys and leaves
the four of us
close the garage door

take off your shirt
okay
will you get on top of me? i like
the weight. it makes me feel
like i'm not alone
okay
i can't tell if i'm bored
or going to cum
when it's over i roll him over to
get a good look at his back
two long, unshaded wings extend
from his shoulder blades to his hips
compulsively i run my hands over them
trying to feel every line of skin
that rises to meet my fingers
have you really killed people?
yeah, he said slowly
your wings are magic or something
they give me power, he said
in a strange voice
but i don't feel overpowered
you're like an angel of death, i say
then he asked something like,
do you think it takes something
kills some part of yourself when you take
another life?
no, i say, i don't think so
he asks why but i don't
really want to answer

he keeps picking me up from work
i keep telling myself i'll get the rag
any day now
the other night neither of us could even
walk to the kitchen when i wanted water
and i was scared
because the junkie told me about this
one time, the day she got pregnant
she drank so much vodka that they took
off her clothes and she didn't even notice
she pissed and puked on the floor and tried
to get into the bathroom but they got to her first
there were two of them
she told me the abortion
didn't hurt at all.
she couldn't
even feel it.

your lost face
so fucking photogenic
i thought about you last night when
i was on my fourth miller high life
flipping through a picture book on
frank sinatra, or something
and i was slurring spanish to some
venezuelan boy, calling him a liar,
mentiroso, both of us smiling
he was still in love with her when
i crawled into her bed still fully
dressed and didn't touch her, just
thought about you and old blue eyes
maybe chainsmoking, arguing
your scarf so soft you're convinced
it's hard. it's hard.
it'll go away, i promise