ARRvol34 master reduced - Flipbook - Page 48
to someone grappling with my hair and jerking my body toward
them. A man’s slopping black, slick, hair squirmed downward on
his unshaven neck, writhing. He wore it up in a clip, and his tongue
clicked into my ear, “Hey—the name’s Joe.” It sounded like thick
sandpaper dry humping a cheese grater.
“Whoa, what the fuck?!” to an empty street allowed for his hands
to grapple my wrists, to paint my innards with grease. His breath
smelled of Todd’s, of whiskey and cigarettes, and the pleasure of
such a false indulgence on a dry aired night ate at me as I somehow
ended up behind a garbage bin in the alleyway perpendicular to
my bar, thinking about how I would throw away the kitchen’s trash
only a few hours prior. I remember sitting up, gazing at each end of
the alleyway, then looking up at the sky. Everything was so open
yet so contained. My body contained grease, and so I wept silently.
I cringed at my memory, looking inward was no better than outward, and I observed the reflection’s closed eyes as mine opened.
Unease crept like ants through my arms as I didn’t want to think
about Sloppy Joes. The Porch Giant flicked the light off, then on
again, and as quickly as I vanished, I reappeared.
Clip…clip.
I don’t remember getting home this morning, but I do remember
going to lay in the park next to the basketball court near Todd’s
house, where my body ached. It was only a few blocks away from
the alleyway. The air felt intrusive along the way, but what wasn’t?
The Porch Giant at least had the decency to stay outside…
At the park, I walked to the creek. I sat with it for a while—
though as the water trickled away, so did I.
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And so, I went home. The jingle of my keys soothed the cement
burn on my back and the scratches on my chest as I approached
