Power arms. Measured biceps. Hands
bigger than caffeine. Muscle shirt. Ass sweatpants. Sneakers slicker than the
floor. From behind, his shoulders threaten the rest. A gorilla walk, hairy
fingers flicking the air before he wraps aboard a metal bar and holds his
weight with interlocked feet and sideburns trailing down a convexo-chin.
Descend. Ascend. Eleven more dips. Shake it all out. Veins bulging like purple
rope. Punch the punching bag. Squat. Water. Jacks. Sweat turning gray darker
gray, he stares at the mirror like an adversary, smile both wildly mad and a
candid shot of teeth-clung lips curling upward.
His cell phone kept ringing during the
movie, six times back to back. I grew livid, uber close to yelling something
crass, a bit obsessed with having, needing, and losing control. Like film noir
or hanging with my fathers best friend, Ned, the Mercator-map expert and
But he was sitting alone, as was I, and
I wondered if he was alone because he felt lonely, as was I, and I thought
perhaps he was waiting to hear from some unapologetic lover, as was I, and I
hoped he was ignoring the seventh ring on purpose, as was I.
There Will Always Be Lines
I know her face but forget her name. She
runs, too. Hair down, shes almost attractive. Shes in the longer
line, those with cash.
So you crossed to the dark
side, she says.
I laugh. I didnt want to but
I had to.
We miss you.
I miss you guys,
Think youll ever come
Maybe. Its price
Forty dollars a month is a lot
It really is.
The lady in front of me turns around and
asks, Whats the dark side?
Anything you want it to
She nods, and for a moment Im
Winkies Bar & Grille
She chews salad greens with teethy
disdain, craving her husbands cheeseburger and fries with coleslaw, the
meal sitting before him like temptation's muse. Her husband, Big Al, manhandles
the greasy sesame seed bun with affinity and ease while she sticks a fork in
the middle of her salad and waves to the waiter, their son, to tell the kitchen
she wants a double cheeseburger, fries, and coleslaw. Just like Big
Als here. And I want a real coke too, she says. No more of
that diet shit. Shes in no mood for weight lose today. Although her
son begs, please.
This Is How
lazy volunteers didnt ask me how to use the oven so I told them it was
flowers are icky pink which compliments her dress which is way too petite for
her body type.
agree if I wrote a check?
Youre too fat to
like curry. No wonder thugs want to murder you.
are missing from the sticky deck of cards, FYI.
shut the hell up.