market. âAre you single?â the man
behind the counter asks. What to think?
For meals, you are inside a couple.
From inside the couple, you have someone
to call while standing in line. âDoes your
girlfriend know?â you must never ask.
Instead, âSo many fish and which?â
The laws of attraction are this: There are
no laws of attraction. A person likes
a person. Both parties like each other
and in each other enjoy being liked.
Baste the fish in lemon and butter.
They say it takes time to meet people.
Do you agree? Sleep with your friend.
Disagree? Cut him off. Put it in the oven.
IâVE BEEN WAITING ALL NIGHT
I reckon you were asleep with your girl
before the phone rang. Make something up.
Iâve been waiting all night to tell you
about the couple in post-War France,
the woman fresh in her grave
and the man who didnât like his mistress dead,
no sir, and so exhumed her, to the dismay
of his wife, who had him arrested
for the stink he made.
She was reburied, returned to the dead.
After jail, he dug her up to fuck again.
Attached suction cups and crafted
a wig from a broom. You can go now.
Iâm more in the mood than youâre used to.
CAFÃ LOOP
Sheâs had it easy, you know. I knew her
from FSU, back before she was disabled.
I mean she was disabled but she didnât
write like it. Did she talk like it?
Do you know what it is exactly?
She used to wear these long dresses
to cover it up. She had a poem
in
The Atlantic
. Yes, Iâll take water.
Me too. With a slice of lemon.
It must be nice to have
The Atlantic
.
Oh, sheâs had it easy all right.
She should come out and state
the disability. She actually is very
dishonest. I met her once at AWP.
Tiny thing. Limps a little. I mean not
really noticeable. What will you have?
I canât decide. How can she write
like sheâs writing for the whole group?
I mean really. Itâs kind of disgusting.
Itâs kind of offensive. Itâs kind of
a commodification of the subaltern
identity. Should we have wine?
Letâs have something light. It makes
you wonder how she lives with herself.
I wouldnât mind. I would commodify
and run. Sheâs had it easy.
I canât stand political poetry.
She never writes about it critically.
If it really concerns her, she should
just write an article or something.
I heard sheâs not that smart. My friend
was in class with her and he said
actually sheâs not that smart.
I believe it. I mean the kind of language
she uses, so simple, elementary.
My friend said she actually believes
her poems have speakers. Oh, thatâs rich.
Iâm sorry but if the book is called
amputee
and youâre an
amputee
then you are the speaker.
So New Criticism. Really I donât like
her work at all. I find it lacking.
HOW TO TREAT FLOWERS
Take the flowers directly home. Make no sloppy small talk with women biting into oranges on park benches. Do not leave the flowers in the car, not even if you are the kind of guy who has a sun visor and dark-tinted windows. You must never leave the flowers in the car.
*
If the flowers are carnationsâwhy? Wasnât she worth roses? Wasnât there a summer bouquet with a few sprigs of babyâs breath, one or two roses and maybe a lily? You cheapskate. Why are you such a cheapskate?
*
Leave the flowers on the kitchen table, in their clear plastic wrap, beside the blender. She will cut the plastic wrap with her favorite pair of white-handled scissors.
*
You buy the flowers. She cuts the stems, runs water warm, sprinkles sugar in the water, because somewhere, if you heard her correctly, somewhere before you (you forgot there was a
before you
) another man told her to put the flowers in sugar water.
*
None of this will happen in time. C. S. Lewis swears all of time is written on an 8 Ã 11 piece of paper and the paper is God. You
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