New York Tyrant
I probably remind my old man of the woman he lost. So maybe that's why I always feel like I don't belong. And why he gives me so much space. I don’t know if it’s that that made me distant. Independent. But what I am sure of is that it makes leaving pretty easy.
In fact. I've been thinking about it for years. But where do I go? And how do I pay for food? So I've had to wait. Until after my 16th birthday. When the fighting with my dad's new wife gets to be too much. I just pack my bags.
And when I come through the kitchen. Shes standing there. She asks me where I think I'm going. I tell her the fuck out of here. That I can't take it anymore. That she's had it out for me since the day she moved in. Scared that I might remind my father of what he used to have.
People like to talk about the year ending
like it’s old fruit you can just toss out
Something that’ll decompose naturally
and painlessly into your yard
This is Western Thought at its finest
To hold something in your palm
and entertain the illusion
that you either need it or you don't
14 My first memory happened on a stairwell, and stairwells have had special resonance as meaningful sites for me ever since. I was three years old, maybe. The stairs were wide and thin, the kind with no back to the steps, just floating slats. It was sunny and the room was white and yellow, the stairwell of an apartment building. Mom was ahead of me, on the steps above, holding paper bags of groceries in both arms. I fell. I was belly down on the steps, and I could see through the emptiness behind and under us. I can see...
Emily says she would probably pee on another person during sex
but would not let the other person pee on her
and I tell her I’ve always felt that the person’s diet
seems important when thinking about it
and we make eye contact briefly
while crossing Hudson street
The sun is out
a few piles of snow remain from winter, pushed against the sidewalks
and I watch Emily begin to hold her sweater differently,
this time by draping it over her right forearm