August 2009
31 posts
Good night summer. Good night sea. Good night Asians, fulfilling your every stereotype with a camera in each hand. http://mypict.me/ufgB
Salt lines form between their pectorals. Not salt from the sea. From the sweat of walking three broadwalk lengths, awaiting a cruise.
They spent twenty minutes picking through packets of fish balls. ‘Were these the ones mom cooked?’ The elder shook her head. ‘More angular.’
I had a bad dream they broke in again. And you were there. But this time, all you did was stare.
The pregnant woman went to each one, asking, ‘You in line?’ until someone let her cut ahead, and she beckoned the husband who sent her.
Excited that they paid me for a survey, I went up to the nearest stranger to share. ‘Hey lady, want to make 5 bucks?’ She ran the other way.
When the girl picked up the sponge toy, the merchant rolled his eyes preemptively. ‘He grows 6 inches overnight,’ she giggled. He smirked.
Exhaustion leads to razor burn, as if the credit on my karma is reaching its upper limits. Interests rate low. Deflation of egos high. Buy.
The rest of the bar joined in with the hostess, screaming the name of the girl two spots ahead for a table. We headed for another borough.
Using his metro card as a squeegee for his forehead, with each swipe he destroys another turnstile from the dried out sweat’s slow erotion.
On this holy month, he unfurls a tattered tarp for a mat, turns toward his food cart in the way of Mecca, and reflects in the sun.
My life in boxes, my boxers stink. Found the towels and the soap. But taken for granted are the plainer things. Like shower curtain rings.
Check out Franz West’s The Ego and the ID at Doris C Freedman Plaza in Central Park until March 2010. You may just find us transfixed there.
Joan Healy and I turned ourselves into bright pink and yellow cast human sculptures as living tribute to Franz West http://vimeo.com/6161999
Heat struck, nauseated, with a migraine; It’s easier to reconcile since you have AC.
The miracle berry turned Guinness into chocolate milkshake, chocolate into praline, tabasco sauce into hot syrup and stomach into full pain.
‘Just moisturize and relax your face,’ he said while our eyes darted. He oggled terror across the gay bar, sighing, ‘Once I was a gogo boy.’
‘The States is like a prison,’ she said. ‘Broke the law to get in, and now I’m stuck.’ She sighed, and then offered me coke for a fuck.
Old lovers on the train, we. Not old as in aged. As in prior. And this time I did say hi. To heal old wounds. Of lives before.
My legs are fanned open to let the breeze penetrate me in this humidity, but my modesty and drawn curtains are being total cockblocks.
I will be doing a reading with other immigrant and children of immigrant writers this Sunday at 1 PM at http://topazarts.org in Queens.
She sprayed the citronella to thwart the blood sucking bugs, but found its effects to be strongest on Williamsburg hipsters. I need a can.
Left amnesty to declare the women are far from miserable and closer to perfection. Just for a spot on the pee queue. It was worth it,
I whispered ‘Fire’ in his sleeping ear. Half dazed waking, he went naked for the alarm in a flash and flashed his drunken roommate, cooking.
Using the tinted glass wall street walls as mirrors, the trader played hoopless 1-on-1 basketball against himself. He hasn’t lost once.
My good man at West 3rd fell asleep on the job again. The rattle of coins in his tin can woke him and he went back to blessing our kindness.
The shirtless jugglist upped his ante, tossing 5, 6, then 7 in the air. But for every attractive passerby, his balls mysteriously dropped.
What’s worse than mosquito bites on the face? Putting calamine lotion on them in the dark and realizing moments later it’s actually Icy Hot.
He jogged ten times ‘round the Jackie O reservoir, leaping over vicious puddles and taking profile self-portraits to prove it.
He came in, and I kept smiling as he undressed, hit the light and said, ‘Good night. Oh God!’ He finally smelled it.
He told the cabbie his address. ‘That’s my home,’ replied the driver. We rode on neighborly, but with tipping.