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)

*

-chloe-

*by someone finding freedom

one humbling experience at a time*

(frankie leone, just a man)

*

*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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