the barfly (pt. 1)

Being loved by Jonathan was like being loved by a dung beetle. He was loyal, hard-working, and strong. He always provided for her, rolling balls of shit every day for over a decade to give her the life she deserved. On their tenth anniversary, he had proudly given her a tennis bracelet. She studied it circling her wrist as she swirled her Manhattan around the glass. The lights above the bar struck all the facets of the tiny diamonds, dazzling her. Jonathan’s love was just as literal, obvious, and lacking in nuance as the gift. He was so good to her, and yet she was so… bored. His earnestness and unfailing honesty were almost offensive sometimes, like a direct incrimination of her morals. She tried not to resent his kindnesses or his gentle, boring kisses… but these days, when he came close, she could smell the unmistakable whiff of shit.

hair salon

she ushers you into the chair, draping a black towel around your neck, and you wonder if she'll need to stack phone books underneath you so you can crane to reach the sink

she doesn't. you've grown enough

the water turns on.

sensing complete vulnerability, your eyes water and your hands are snared at your sides.

feral cat

you've given this woman all your trust

you've left the pale sinew

of your neck wide open to the air.

dazy hazy

hair floating in the sink

lather rinse repeat/lather rinse repeat/lather rinse–

is the temperature alright?

fluorescent lights flaring through a fisheye lens

you're benjamin button cradled in the womb, nestled in a cavity of fluid

an amniotic sack of vanity

when she wraps a towel around my neck, she is my mother, dumping a large cup of water over my long hair, which is draped over the tub like laundry hung out to dry.

old faithful

deep inside the caldera…

magma oozes like honey, sticking

to the edges of an ancient crater, crumbling

once an eon, she sighs–

the air shudders and becomes thick

once every two eons, she stretches–

the sky begins to steam

and on the surface,

he blows.