She averted my gaze. I was able to look at the fake nipples I had read about in an article she had written on line. My mother had died an agonizing death from breast cancer. I had an unconscious need to find a replacement for my mother. I had
found it for awhile in a woman Buddhist teacher. I wasn’t able to stay with her after being her student for a year. I felt that she had exhumed her mind with prayer and
meditation. I had sought out another female Buddhist teacher who I liked very much. She was very skinny like the former Buddhist teacher. She had a desiccated face and a wide mouth with large poor teeth. I had wanted to fuck her not for her ugliness, but for the sexuality that slipped like an eel from breathing skull to  breathing skull in the group.

My boyfriend’s mother was a crack addict, she said. You can write about that in one of your articles.

I get lonely I said. Do you read fiction?


She likes facts about geography. I am horrible with facts.

I’m obsessed with a musician, she said.
I’m looking for a stable relationship with an artist, she said.
That is not easy to find, I said.

It seemed she was looking at something in the distance. She kept her gaze steady. She chided his helplessness. He felt like a patient in a nursing home.

I’ve traveled everywhere, she said. An African man introduced himself by putting his hand on my breast.

She was in my dream last night. She descended in a white gown. Her skin was glowing. She hovered above my face. I was happy. I smelled ambrosia. I heard her moan. It felt good to please her.

She was on her knees. She prayed for me. She masturbated to my sadness. I wanted to disappear. I was scared you I would disappear without the pain.

I had to go to the l.a. museum to feel that I still existed. you liked the art. I liked the museum crowd looking at it.

I felt that the artists connected to the art led productive healthy lives and were connected to other productive creative beings who made bold career moves. I didn’t want to go back to
my empty room.

She had contempt for my self-pity and misanthropic view point.

you hate everyone she said.
Is it my fault I can’t make you happy, I said. I’m damaged i can’t help it.

Everyone is damaged, she said. We all have issues.

We need one another I said.

We have to communicate I said.

Your needs are distorted you said. You don’t give a shit about me. I’m done. I’m not wasting my time on you anymore.

I want to see you fuck your friend Jenna, I said. Her stretchy face reminds me of  someone else’s
face. She looks like she was very pretty once. She looks like what you will look like in
ten years.

She is a good friend I said. Thanks for introducing her to me.

I was jealous when you jerked off the skinny Jewish man,
but I also liked it. I felt confused. I liked that you jerked him off and ignored me while i bought you drinks and he gave you nothing. You had an accomplished prideful look. You held yourself upright and adjusted your hair.