When You are Young, You will Fall Absurdly in Love With a Lot of People and You will Do the Sorts of Things and Think the Sorts of Thoughts That Get Adults Thrown in Jail (Parts I, II)
I. A Prayer
Let me be drunk high horny
on the Brooklyn Bridge
fingering the smooth assholes of strangers.
II. I Believe Her Name was Jane; She was a Barista
I would look her hard in the face
while she dispensed coffee from a commercial urn.
One day she was outside of Starbucks.
She asked me for a lighter.
Epiphany in the dumbfounded and -struck
manner of American teenage
white boys with sex issues :
to know entirely and at once
the thud of lust-shocked blood in my cock
and believe it transcendent, transcending.
I nearly threw a black plastic Bic at her mouth.
I nearly got down on both knees and begged to eat her out.
I thought about making her an omelet
but I found my arsenal of recipes wanting.
I thought about eating the hair off of my face
because some of her Parliament smoke
must have ended up in there.
Perhaps it is a false memory
but I recall clearly her saying
apropos of nothing
“I spent yesterday climbing into the passenger’s seats
of parked cars and waiting for someone to drive me home.
No one ever did.”
With what bloodlove offerings would I have brutalized her
had I found her climbing into mine?
Christmas Eve :
a snowburnt pine wreath hung on the door.
I stumbled forward from a car
underage a little drunk
determined to ask her to beat me
over the head with her painter-cum-barista’s
hands until I come.
She wasn’t working
that night. I ordered coffee
called Dan to see what he was up to.
Jane’s new hair was red she had bruising on her jaw.
She explained the bruises as the result of a fall.
The fact is that they were.
The joke is that I conjured an abusive boyfriend
against whom to justify myself
leaving a pack of cigarettes on the counter.
She returned them.
“Thanks, but I quit”.