Monthly Archives: August 2012

you were the radical feminist who gave me the first blow job that ever made me come (on 247 starr street and wyckoff). – 27 (williamsburg, borough of lost boys)

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-chloe-

*by someone finding freedom

one humbling experience at a time*

(frankie leone, just a man)

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*a dollar store fan

missing a blade

blows onto my skin

coated in a thin layer of sweat

clothed only in powder blue boxer shorts

covered with a print of cowboys and indians

and an unfiltered camel burns in these long digits

decorated with cut scars and tattoos

before being put out into an old coffee mug

resting on a small table

adorned with black and bronze mosaic tiles

while i remember*

 

*

 

*she lives uptown

and loved her bicycle

saying it gave her freedom from our city’s

subterranean network of grinding metal

and tired faces

freedom from its control of her time

and stolen moments from the streets*

 

*

 

*someone likely pursuing

powder and liquid relief from reality

relieved her of it

with a pair of bolt cutters

and a relaxed conscience

she’s petit

so her bicycle was pint-sized

pink

and like a child’s

had streamers coming from the handlebars*

 

*

 

*she’s taken the subway to see me in brooklyn

and we walk along an empty north 8th street

as the sun drops

towards my idea of a romantic evening

on the water at east river state park

the sky breathes an easy summer breeze on us

and she tells me more about grieving chloe,

the name she’d given the pink bicycle

moments before we see it

chained to the gate of a building

near the corner of berry street*

 

*

 

*”whoever lives here stole my bike”

she says in wide-eyed shock

in a normal speaking tone

“lucky you”

i respond

drawing a trouble-filled smile

her expression shuffles into irritation

“how do you figure that”

“i know a decent booster

let me call him

if he’s free

chloe will be yours again

in a half hour

if he isn’t

you’ll have your freedom from the m.t.a.

back by midnight

because i have a decent hack saw

four blocks away

in my roomie’s toolbox”

her irritation morphs to surprise

“that’s illegal

you could get in trouble”

i don’t respond

and watch her face go contemplative

she continues

“i guess this is this person’s karma though”

“probably not”

i answer

“what do you mean”

“it’s the booster’s and the fence’s karma

this person was just dumb enough to buy a stolen bike

rich girls in williamsburg

with apartments on the north side

aren’t cutting bicycle locks uptown

to pay rent”

surprise shifts to sadness

“don’t call your friend

don’t come back here later

and don’t ever mention this again”

“what”

i respond

“i’m not going to inflict

the pain i felt losing chloe

on someone else”

“bullshit

you’re getting your bike back”

now she’s angry

“no i’m not

you’re not doing shit

and i don’t want to hear about this again”

my ego absorbs the blows

and i keep my mouth shut

before we walk

the last two blocks to the park

in awkward silence.*

 

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