i crossed sandy blvd. h was there in a black skirt. her thumb got bigger every time i saw it. it was like a culinary tool.
my white sneakers were clumsy. i felt ugly not having made money. the pork sandwich i had made me nauseous. i felt like incest. the pork had had its shape
and texture and now it had no shape.
b cared about me. i knew that she did. i could see her suffer for me unlike another woman i liked who didn’t care for me. i wanted to see the man she likes. she said that she had been raped by her grandfather when she was a girl. then, she refused me.
b fucked a black man. he had foreskin. she liked that i had foreskin. i liked the idea that the black man and i were intact and that we were liked by the same woman. it is the standard in the states to be circumcised.
b could have sex whenever she liked. she went to morocco. the handsome and the ugly felt her small white american body. she wanted to be raped after ramadan. she
was followed by one man into the small windy city. he lost his nerve when she
walked into a dead end.
b wanted something more than sex. i didn’t see why she thought i had substance. it’s awful how we see things in others that aren’t there.
i could be mild or explosive. i could be boring and obsessive. i was all things at once. i couldn’t see the big picture. i hid under my hunting hat and black rimmed glasses. there were things i’m wasn’t supposed to do and i did them. i carried a hand gun. i didn’t know how to use it. i wasn’t supposed to have one. i didn’t tell men and women about my illness. i infected them. they died a horrible death. the doc wouldn’t treat me if i had a gun or if i was addicted to opioids.
she had short hair and a curvy nose. they sent me three men and one woman.
the four looked like blood clots. they worked in the same office and spoke the same language.
do you know why they sent you, i said.
yes, he said. don’t you know?
what did they tell you, i said.
they said you have words and that we would want to make a connection between them, she said.
as you can see if have black cards, i said. a white word on each card.
i like the white on black and that the words seem to be related, he said.
it looks like mold, he said.
it looks like japanese contemporary pottery, he said.
what do you see, i said.
i see a monkey and a parrot and grapes, she said.
what do you see, i said.
i see george washington crossing the delaware, he said.
this has been painted by many, i said. what else do you see?
i see a generation that hasn’t said what is art, she said.