Rare Bird

Sword swallower triptych I

When I met him, I was homeless.
When he left, I felt unmoored.

My anger at you is actually a feeling of helplessness
that illuminates how powerless I feel with myself.

Some there are who say that the fairest thing seen
after wet sex is an orgy of cuddling;
Some, laughter; some would say talk; but I say
it is stacked green bills.

You want to love a girl without a bed?
You’ll have to fuck me in the road, I said.

It seems to me,
she said,

that you’re punishing each other
for falling in love with each other.

Fuck him,
I said.
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Sword swallower triptych II

She called me and said what’s up, I said life is good,
it’s my boo’s birthday, he came over, I roasted
beef bones and we scooped the marrow out on fresh
french bread, squeezed out slices of lemons, I was
going to feed him on the roof but we decided the wind was too sharp,
I spread out a scarf on the glass coffee table, we ate
smiling across from each other on the floor, we were so
full, neither of us thought we’d even be able to have
sex —but of course we did— just lying there on my
bed groaning a little bit at first —get the fuck off my
stomach it’s too full!—our favorite position that we
always end up in, we just started that way, both of us
embracing our whole chests touching and we can just hold
onto each others lips with our lips and my legs tossed over
his hips so we just rock into each other softly, it felt so
good —stop, I said to his ear and he stopped —I quivered,
start, I said, and he stopped mostly and I groaned and couldn’t quite
stop for a minute —he started back and it was even better and then
I went tense
—stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop I’m coming I’m coming
I’m coming I’m coming I’m coming and then I went limp — he went into
action, he pushed into me, he gripped me by the throat, he used my
body like a shovel on a stuck rock and then he came with a long grunt
like
a low note clenched from a bass clarinet and I felt him wet in me and we
both just lay there panting and
holding on to each other for a while until —I have two grams of ketamine
in my
bag right now he said, do you want to, — yes I said, what’s it like, I
said — like
being underwater and floating on the moon he said, —yes— but turn on
the music —
he put on his regular old shit that I never want to hear unless it’s
party and I’m dancing,
he didn’t understand my stereo, it was just blathering out of his iPhone
with its
stupid beat I roused myself
like a queen
I strode across the bed and switched out the cellphones, my limbs were
floating, I paused his music and dropped his iPhone like a slug with a
shudder —ugh— I connected
my stereo to my phone I put on Coltrane A Love Supreme
we both sighed and I lay my body down and he held me again and I held
him and I couldn’t
feel him and the daylight was too intense and I closed my eyes and every
once in a
while I opened them and saw his hairy chest and was like what — what is
this tan skin
body thing —then only Coltrane — then,
murder,
I could murder,
I could murder a person, I could push the knife into a flab of skin and
there would just be the rubber sensation of the skin folding slowly
around
my utensil,
—wish I’d been there for that, she cut in on the phone—
—but my limbs were totally paralyzed so I couldn’t act on it—
—that’s too bad, she said. Then she hung up.

Six hours later she tried to jump out a window. We had the cops drag her
out of her apartment. She was handcuffed, screaming,
alive.

So. I love him.

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Sword swallower triptych III

Where is the emoji for two 5150’s in two months?

How do I find the emoji for I didn’t realize he had two girlfriends—

I mean, if love exists (and really what is it,
what the fuck is it), then I feel it and if it doesn’t it doesn’t
matter.

But, I asked, how did she not know her boyfriend hanged himself until
way later?
She opened her eyes wide and held her chopsticks over sushi.
“All of my friends are hookers and all of my friends are crazy.”

I became what you wanted in a woman through sex work,
and through it I became what nobody wants.

I swallowed the sword.
But I did not first swallow the sheath.
I got this. It’ll floss right out of my throat.

When we met you asked what made me happy and I said, No.
When you left for the last time I crouched on the floor of the shower
for a long time with
my palm raised up beneath the stream of water.

The thing I value:
It is good art done.