Bus Stop Porno
the maltese boy says to me, you had your chance at being seventeen, and you screwed it up. it’s time for you to fucking grow up.
about me: i enjoy finding strange
men who don’t like themselves a whole lot
and who find me thin and angelic on des moines
public transportation––waiting. i am always waiting
for a new way to horrify my ancestors. the maltese boy––
my classmate–– he doesn’t meet me on public transportation,
he crashes into me the first day i don’t participate in class.
he tells me to grow up when i tell him i’ve fucked three
dudes who “found” me on a bus at night. i say “found”
because, as i said, i was actually waiting; the maltese boy
says that’s freaky but adds i’m no better and he kisses
my inner thigh and i feel the whites of my eyes going black–
his irises and pupils going white––this occurs tuesday night,
mind you. tomorrow he will drive me to campus. tomorrow
we are going to listen to kat dahlia and pretend this isn’t
the pink electricity i always used to write about. maybe it’s
not. i'm not wrong sometimes. i can see it being something more like a body behind a
dumpster coming back to life; zombies, des moines, everything here
coming back to life. our eyes all black, or all white. two dark
bodies on a bed or in a car, touching––do you love me? do you
love me?–and i want to tell him i do, but i don’t, i don't one bit, i tell him
i want to not be alive when i suck your dick, instead.