you have a dirty mind, i said.
that is why you like me, a said.
yeah, i said.
i feel like a woman and a feels like a man when i’m with her. i breathe life into her and she does the same with me.
a drinks me like a glass of water.
i miss you, i said. you know i have been writing about you because i’m angry i don’t get to see you.
how is the murakami, a said.
i have read four of his books. he writes about dead men that have to go on living and thwarted men who want to die and can’t kill themselves. he recounted a hemingway story. he said that he didn’t have the same response to anxiety as the character.
i examine my eczema in the daylight. it is spreading.
j keeps a journal.
he read his writing to a friend at college. she was anorexic and obsessive compulsive. he wasn’t able to be her friend as long as he would have liked. she was starving herself and died last winter.
i used to email her my poems, j said.
i decided it wasn’t the time to give him my email.
i’m taking care of myself, j said. i’m sleeping 6 hours every night.
he reminds me of myself when i was in my early twenties, except less hostile and stupid.
that’s good, i said.
i’m figuring out who i identify with, j said. i think j will find his place. he isn’t doomed.
he likes my attention. i can see it. his eyes sparkle. he thinks and searches openly in front of me. he trusts me.
i’ve been reading local poets at hawthorne books, j said.
it seems if you’re burroughs you have to kill someone to become a writer, i said.
i feel i should be able to write a short story before i can call myself a poet, j said.
what is a short story, i said.
jacob recently discovered pessoa’s book of disquiet. i want to create and not be emotional like pessoa.
i envy j’s youth. he has levity. he still thinks that the best is ahead of him.
he didn’t want to work with brian this sunny afternoon.
brian has a red beard and blue eyes. he’s a receptionist and a baker. he has a girlfriend.i thought he was predisposed to men his parents are divorced. his parents believe in money and reason. he thinks he will never stop loving his girlfriend. she wants to start a family. he wants to live in a house with solar panels and to plant lentils and wanton crops.
i hate folks who think the world has to come to them, brian said.
i’m starting to imitate brian. i can’t help it. i like him. i grow my beard like him and wear similar jeans and t-shirts. i haven’t started hating him, that will happen later when i i pine for him. i can tell he has a father who taught him how to shave. he shapes his beard.