Decked in heavy winter attire, my brother and I sat on our back screened-in-porch in plastic rockers that had worn blue plaid cushions. It was late, the night before Christmas, so we talked softly to not wake our mom and my dad, whose bedroom is directly above the porch. Joe, with his brown hair and 5 o’clock shadow, was smoking a pack of Marlboros. His normally bright, lively blue eyes were cold as steel tonight and I wondered why he had brought me outside to talk. “I have to tell you something… but you can’t tell Mom. He paused and took a long drag on his cigarette. It wasn’t hard for me to accept Joe’s revelation until three years later. This time, his words crackled and broke me in half.
“Mary…I’m dying”.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Bitch With A Bad Mouth
A series of found poems using:
Michael Odaantje’s “The Collected Works of Billy the Kids”
Sarah Messer’s “Bandit Letters”
1.
Wife of Outlaw
They call me Bitch with a Bad Mouth
Back to the whiskey
The acid burning my gums and tongue on the way out
She is a woman, young, barely fourteen
Imagine your ghost at my bedside
Overlooked form of murder in the West
Darker than saddle leather
Blood a necklace all my life
The way they look at her; it was a need
The man who trained me; like an illness
Her voice like a birds egg in her throat crackling
They fornicated: his tongue a shard of ice between your teeth
Slow slide into adultery
The worst of the worst
Her hands; poking the gun through the planks
Like Annie Oakley, she aims
A sting on your very best thing
Do you know him? William Bonney? Caught history
The best money; to put my hands upon
Staggering in the dark
2.
Back to the whiskey: it was a need
The acid burning my gums and tongue on the way out
Her voice like a birds egg in her throat crackling
Slow slide into adultery
The worst of the worst
Wife of outlaw caught history
Overlooked form of murder in the West
She is a woman, young, barely fourteen
Darker than saddle leather
They fornicated: his tongue a shard of ice between your teeth
The man who trained me; like an illness
The way they look at her
Do you know him?
Imagine my hands upon your ghost at
Like Annie Oakley, she aims
Her hands; poking the gun through the planks
William Bonney; staggering in the dark
A sting on your very best thing
They call me Bitch with a Bad Mouth
3.
Whiskey; it’s a need
The acid burning my gums and tongue on the way out
His voice like a birds egg crackling in my ears
Slow slide into adultery
The worst of the worst
Wife of outlaw caught history
Overlooked form of murder in the West
She is a woman, barely fourteen; darker than saddle leather
The man who trained me; we fornicated.
His tongue a shard of ice between my teeth
The way he looks at me; like an illness
Do you know him?
Staggering in the dark: William Bonney.
My hands upon his ghost.
Poking a gun through the planks
Like Annie Oakley, she aims
A sting on your very best thing
They call me Bitch with a Bad Mouth
4.
Murder in the West
Wife of outlaw caught history
A woman, barely fourteen; darker than saddle leather
The worst of the worst
His voice; a bird’s egg crackling
We fornicated: his tongue a shard of ice between my teeth
The way he looks at me:
Burning like whiskey on the way out
Slow slide into adultery
That man staggering in the dark
Do you know him?
William Bonney?
My hands, poking a gun through the planks
Aiming, I am Annie Oakley
A sting on his very best thing
They call me Bitch with a Bad Mouth
Michael Odaantje’s “The Collected Works of Billy the Kids”
Sarah Messer’s “Bandit Letters”
1.
Wife of Outlaw
They call me Bitch with a Bad Mouth
Back to the whiskey
The acid burning my gums and tongue on the way out
She is a woman, young, barely fourteen
Imagine your ghost at my bedside
Overlooked form of murder in the West
Darker than saddle leather
Blood a necklace all my life
The way they look at her; it was a need
The man who trained me; like an illness
Her voice like a birds egg in her throat crackling
They fornicated: his tongue a shard of ice between your teeth
Slow slide into adultery
The worst of the worst
Her hands; poking the gun through the planks
Like Annie Oakley, she aims
A sting on your very best thing
Do you know him? William Bonney? Caught history
The best money; to put my hands upon
Staggering in the dark
2.
Back to the whiskey: it was a need
The acid burning my gums and tongue on the way out
Her voice like a birds egg in her throat crackling
Slow slide into adultery
The worst of the worst
Wife of outlaw caught history
Overlooked form of murder in the West
She is a woman, young, barely fourteen
Darker than saddle leather
They fornicated: his tongue a shard of ice between your teeth
The man who trained me; like an illness
The way they look at her
Do you know him?
Imagine my hands upon your ghost at
Like Annie Oakley, she aims
Her hands; poking the gun through the planks
William Bonney; staggering in the dark
A sting on your very best thing
They call me Bitch with a Bad Mouth
3.
Whiskey; it’s a need
The acid burning my gums and tongue on the way out
His voice like a birds egg crackling in my ears
Slow slide into adultery
The worst of the worst
Wife of outlaw caught history
Overlooked form of murder in the West
She is a woman, barely fourteen; darker than saddle leather
The man who trained me; we fornicated.
His tongue a shard of ice between my teeth
The way he looks at me; like an illness
Do you know him?
Staggering in the dark: William Bonney.
My hands upon his ghost.
Poking a gun through the planks
Like Annie Oakley, she aims
A sting on your very best thing
They call me Bitch with a Bad Mouth
4.
Murder in the West
Wife of outlaw caught history
A woman, barely fourteen; darker than saddle leather
The worst of the worst
His voice; a bird’s egg crackling
We fornicated: his tongue a shard of ice between my teeth
The way he looks at me:
Burning like whiskey on the way out
Slow slide into adultery
That man staggering in the dark
Do you know him?
William Bonney?
My hands, poking a gun through the planks
Aiming, I am Annie Oakley
A sting on his very best thing
They call me Bitch with a Bad Mouth
Dead Cat Sequence: From 2006
1. him sleeping with his mouth wide open
plaid sheets spotted by dry saliva
dead cat in the hay
a man standing on the edge of an aluminum can, his arms over his head ready to dive in.
2. Aluminum Can.
Dead cat in the hay, sleeping with his mouth wide open.
Spotted by dry saliva.
A man standing at the edge of plaid sheets; ready to dive in.
3. Spotted by dry saliva.
Dead cat in the hay.
Cut tongue; ready to dive in.
Aluminum mouth; sleeping can wide open.
4. Wide open aluminum mouth.
Sleeping, cut tongue.
Spotted by dry saliva.
Dead cat in the hay.
Ready to dive into last liquid drop.
5. Sleeping cut tongue.
Spotted by dry saliva.
Ready to dive into last liquid drop.
Wide open aluminum mouth.
Dead cat in the hay.
6. Bloodied, cut tongue.
Spotted with dry saliva.
Ready to dive into last liquid drop.
Wide open aluminum mouth.
Dead cat in the hay.
plaid sheets spotted by dry saliva
dead cat in the hay
a man standing on the edge of an aluminum can, his arms over his head ready to dive in.
2. Aluminum Can.
Dead cat in the hay, sleeping with his mouth wide open.
Spotted by dry saliva.
A man standing at the edge of plaid sheets; ready to dive in.
3. Spotted by dry saliva.
Dead cat in the hay.
Cut tongue; ready to dive in.
Aluminum mouth; sleeping can wide open.
4. Wide open aluminum mouth.
Sleeping, cut tongue.
Spotted by dry saliva.
Dead cat in the hay.
Ready to dive into last liquid drop.
5. Sleeping cut tongue.
Spotted by dry saliva.
Ready to dive into last liquid drop.
Wide open aluminum mouth.
Dead cat in the hay.
6. Bloodied, cut tongue.
Spotted with dry saliva.
Ready to dive into last liquid drop.
Wide open aluminum mouth.
Dead cat in the hay.
Lovettsville, My Hometown
Lovettsville, bordering the Potomac River of Maryland is the northernmost town in Virginia, and habitually the least heard of. Unlike its neighboring towns and cities, Lovettsville doesn’t have a Blockbuster or a McDonalds or five competing grocery stores. It’s not the kind of town you can just drive through either. Most of the residents in Lovettsville don’t even live in the town limits. It is on the back gravel roads and in the rolling fields that you can find our residents thriving; and also where you can experience nature at its best. Traveling down the country roads in Lovettsville gives you a chance to tour our farms and wineries, stay at our cozy bed and breakfasts’, and discover our off the beaten path historic treasures. You won’t be the first to fall in love with our charming town and settle in.
Lovettsville’s German settlers came from Bavaria, which is a present-day state in southern Germany. Before Bavaria was declared a state, it was part of what was referred to as the Rhineland-Palatinate. A palatinate is a region of land or territory controlled by a count Palatine, which is not a person, but a Roman style of legislature and electoral duties. By the 13th century, the Rhineland Palatinate was one of the seven electors of the Holy Roman Empire, and so was also called the Electoral Palatinate.
During the Thirty Years War, which arose due to religious conflict between the Protestants and the Catholics, the Rhineland-Palatinate was consumed by war and plague. The early ancestors of Lovettsville’s settlers traveled from their homeland in the Rhineland-Palatinate to New Amsterdam, present day New York. Not being able to find compatible jobs in New Amsterdam, the Germans moved their farm families south to Pennsylvania, where many of them remain to this day in the Pennsylvania-Dutch communities (Wikipedia). In “Lovettsville the German Settlement”, the late Reverend Michael Kretsinger noted that while some settlers did stop at Lovettsville, others continued down through Virginia to the Shenandoah Valley, where the earth was rich and fertile with limestone.
In an article by Lovettsville’s Town Mayor Elaine Walker in “Celebration of a Heritage”, early records indicate that the first person to come to the Lovettsville area was Elder William Wenner in 1720. In 1732, other settlers from Pennsylvania came to Lovettsville to settle in what was then known as the German Settlement. Elder Wenner served as the settlement minister as well as the schoolmaster. At first, baptisms and church services were performed in the homes of the new settlers. Later a log church was built at the site that is presently the Reformed Church Cemetery. The established name of the church was St. James United Church of Christ, and it remains as the oldest church of German Reformed origin in the tri-state area, as well as the oldest active Reformed congregation in Virginia. The modern St. James church is located in town on East Broad Way Street.
According to Lovettsville the German Settlement by Yetive Rockefeller Weatherly, the Germans did not interact with the English speaking neighbors because they were cut off by their location, foreign customs and language. Fortunately, the Germans were very skilled artisans and provided themselves everything they needed for their plain, farming lives. They worked metal to make tools, made clocks and furniture, wove cloth, cobbled shoes, milled flour, and even found time to distill liquor.
Daniel Lovett was one of the original sixty-five families to settle the area in 1732. In 1820, his grandson David decided to subdivide part of the family farmland, located at the site of the present incorporated village of Lovettsville, into quarter-acre plots and sell them off. Up until the start of the Civil War, the “German Settlement” was still known as such. Sometime between 1730 and 1820, the town was called Thrasher’s Store after one of its general stores and New Town or NewTown after that. It was not until 1828 that the town name of Lovettsville was used.
For the past several years, Lovettsville has held a town wide celebration of its heritage to honor its first settlers. Of course, the celebration is open to everyone. This year, the 14th annual Oktoberfest will be held on Saturday, September 29, 2007, rain or shine. Come out to our home sweet home and enjoy an old fashioned Volksmarch which is a short jaunt through the town, watch visiting German dancers and musicians, purchase arts and crafts, and of course, treat yourself to some wiener schnitzel, beer, and wine.
Lovettsville’s German settlers came from Bavaria, which is a present-day state in southern Germany. Before Bavaria was declared a state, it was part of what was referred to as the Rhineland-Palatinate. A palatinate is a region of land or territory controlled by a count Palatine, which is not a person, but a Roman style of legislature and electoral duties. By the 13th century, the Rhineland Palatinate was one of the seven electors of the Holy Roman Empire, and so was also called the Electoral Palatinate.
During the Thirty Years War, which arose due to religious conflict between the Protestants and the Catholics, the Rhineland-Palatinate was consumed by war and plague. The early ancestors of Lovettsville’s settlers traveled from their homeland in the Rhineland-Palatinate to New Amsterdam, present day New York. Not being able to find compatible jobs in New Amsterdam, the Germans moved their farm families south to Pennsylvania, where many of them remain to this day in the Pennsylvania-Dutch communities (Wikipedia). In “Lovettsville the German Settlement”, the late Reverend Michael Kretsinger noted that while some settlers did stop at Lovettsville, others continued down through Virginia to the Shenandoah Valley, where the earth was rich and fertile with limestone.
In an article by Lovettsville’s Town Mayor Elaine Walker in “Celebration of a Heritage”, early records indicate that the first person to come to the Lovettsville area was Elder William Wenner in 1720. In 1732, other settlers from Pennsylvania came to Lovettsville to settle in what was then known as the German Settlement. Elder Wenner served as the settlement minister as well as the schoolmaster. At first, baptisms and church services were performed in the homes of the new settlers. Later a log church was built at the site that is presently the Reformed Church Cemetery. The established name of the church was St. James United Church of Christ, and it remains as the oldest church of German Reformed origin in the tri-state area, as well as the oldest active Reformed congregation in Virginia. The modern St. James church is located in town on East Broad Way Street.
According to Lovettsville the German Settlement by Yetive Rockefeller Weatherly, the Germans did not interact with the English speaking neighbors because they were cut off by their location, foreign customs and language. Fortunately, the Germans were very skilled artisans and provided themselves everything they needed for their plain, farming lives. They worked metal to make tools, made clocks and furniture, wove cloth, cobbled shoes, milled flour, and even found time to distill liquor.
Daniel Lovett was one of the original sixty-five families to settle the area in 1732. In 1820, his grandson David decided to subdivide part of the family farmland, located at the site of the present incorporated village of Lovettsville, into quarter-acre plots and sell them off. Up until the start of the Civil War, the “German Settlement” was still known as such. Sometime between 1730 and 1820, the town was called Thrasher’s Store after one of its general stores and New Town or NewTown after that. It was not until 1828 that the town name of Lovettsville was used.
For the past several years, Lovettsville has held a town wide celebration of its heritage to honor its first settlers. Of course, the celebration is open to everyone. This year, the 14th annual Oktoberfest will be held on Saturday, September 29, 2007, rain or shine. Come out to our home sweet home and enjoy an old fashioned Volksmarch which is a short jaunt through the town, watch visiting German dancers and musicians, purchase arts and crafts, and of course, treat yourself to some wiener schnitzel, beer, and wine.
Backseat Admirer:: 2nd Draft
In all honesty, I’m terrible with directions.
When I ride in cars, I always look out the side window.
This inclination began when I was a child;
I was too small to ride in the front seat.
I like to watch:
trees rush by;
flocks of birds
weighing down power lines
or resting on shivering ponds.
On rural roads, local drivers and wanderers wave hello,
and porch sitters share stories through a petty glance.
Parting from my home in the countryside
to visit the bank or grocery store:
the gradual devolution of pasture to gravel road
to asphalt and then to cement;
is a welcomed sight
…sometimes…
it’s like watching evolution in fast forward
depending on which way I’m travelling.
These days, I am the driver
and I frequently travel in the wrong direction,
despite my best intentions.
Yet, this routine is tolerable:
I’d much rather travel through this world watching life continue,
then to remember where humans built roads.
When I ride in cars, I always look out the side window.
This inclination began when I was a child;
I was too small to ride in the front seat.
I like to watch:
trees rush by;
flocks of birds
weighing down power lines
or resting on shivering ponds.
On rural roads, local drivers and wanderers wave hello,
and porch sitters share stories through a petty glance.
Parting from my home in the countryside
to visit the bank or grocery store:
the gradual devolution of pasture to gravel road
to asphalt and then to cement;
is a welcomed sight
…sometimes…
it’s like watching evolution in fast forward
depending on which way I’m travelling.
These days, I am the driver
and I frequently travel in the wrong direction,
despite my best intentions.
Yet, this routine is tolerable:
I’d much rather travel through this world watching life continue,
then to remember where humans built roads.
Iman
Thankfully, Iman left school after that year. I was relieved because it meant I didn’t have to walk quickly past him when he was talking to others, nor would I have to look him awkwardly in the eye when it was just the two of us in the dorm hall. It was sophomore year and I lived two doors from the end of the stairwell. Iman and his roommate lived one floor up, one room down, but across the hall.
Now here was my predicament: I had spent the past several hours doing the usual things that lonely girls do at night…roaming around campus desperately searching for their friendless male counterpart. I was on a mission to find a mate and I knew that if I just kept walking, just kept seeking, my man of reverie would crawl out of the woodwork and find me.
However, my state of depression not only caused me to feel cheerless and disheartened, but it also led me to believe that if I got real drunk, guys would want me; because guys always dig the fun, drunk, loud girls at the party. So I kept walking and I kept drinking and of course, I grew more and more despondent, and realized that alcohol wasn’t going to be strong enough this night; I needed some bona-fide herbal healing to get my mind off of my miserable state of being. I just needed a couple hits.
Iman was an outlet of livelihood on campus, so when I saw his bedroom lights on in my dorm as I was heading back home I knew that he was my last chance for solace. I hadn’t always been on the best terms with Iman and his friends; I knew I had a slim chance of getting into his room, but I was in a state of urgency when I smelled the vapors escaping from his door. I knocked once, turned the knob, and stumbled into Iman’s den.
Three boys turned to look at once.
“Oh… hi… I heard you guys up. I couldn’t sleep either.” Iman looked at me and I gazed into his eyes. I hoped that he would let me stay; I hoped that he would help me forget my feelings. “Yea Mary, come on in, come on in. What is Mary, Mary up to tonight?” I pushed the door a little, but there was a towel on the floor, so I scooted in and pushed the towel into the crack under the door where it was needed.
“I’ve just been drinking”. I had my big red cup in my hand and I held it up and stumbled over to sit between the guys. I know that they all noticed how I wobbled into the room and crashed in the middle of the bedroom floor. Iman was sitting on his mattress which was on the floor under his roommates bunk, and I sat right next to that, in between the two guys that were playing video games on opposite sides of the room. They were playing FIFA soccer and I remember thinking that if only I knew how to play video games, loads of guys would be interested in me. The boys had been smoking and I could smell it on them; I hoped that they had more left and when Iman asked me if I wanted to share a bowl with them, I was inwardly thrilled.
We all had a couple hits and finally I was feeling relaxed. Maybe the night wasn’t going to be a totally failure after all. Iman asked me if I wanted some really expensive, really fine liquor that I had never heard of before and I told him I did, and then as if it were an unspoken code, the two boys playing video games felt suddenly exhausted and said they were going to try and catch some sleep. So they left and Iman got me a drink, and while I drank that sweet divine, he packed another bowl, started a movie and sat down on the floor next to me.
I was swimming in my head; my eyes were extra hazy from the mixture of booze and herbal delight that we had refilled ourselves with and when Iman started to rub his hands up and down my legs, and over my thighs, I was more than ready for him.
But we didn’t fuck upstairs in his room. We went downstairs to my single, and I laid down on my back for him and let him in. He didn’t fuck me hard, but he was thick and longer than I had experienced before and he went in deep. He took it to the limit and a little farther and stayed in longer than I thought was necessary and he took his time about it. He was such a big man and he was drunk and stoned and so was I and he felt like a brick wall crushing down into me. I just couldn’t get him off me and he ignored my cries to stop, and all I could think was that it wasn’t his fault. I was the one who had come to his room searching for closeness. But something had gone wrong in my plan… this closeness was too close and not nearly as personal as I wanted it to be.
When he was finished, I thought that this was my time. I thought that he would stay with me for the night; I thought for sure he would stay and hold me close to his body, and make me at least feel loved for one short night.
But he didn’t stay. When he left, I locked my door, and crawled into bed naked and sore. I buried my tears into my pillow, and cried myself to sleep, feeling broken and stupid and used, as I deserved to be.
Now here was my predicament: I had spent the past several hours doing the usual things that lonely girls do at night…roaming around campus desperately searching for their friendless male counterpart. I was on a mission to find a mate and I knew that if I just kept walking, just kept seeking, my man of reverie would crawl out of the woodwork and find me.
However, my state of depression not only caused me to feel cheerless and disheartened, but it also led me to believe that if I got real drunk, guys would want me; because guys always dig the fun, drunk, loud girls at the party. So I kept walking and I kept drinking and of course, I grew more and more despondent, and realized that alcohol wasn’t going to be strong enough this night; I needed some bona-fide herbal healing to get my mind off of my miserable state of being. I just needed a couple hits.
Iman was an outlet of livelihood on campus, so when I saw his bedroom lights on in my dorm as I was heading back home I knew that he was my last chance for solace. I hadn’t always been on the best terms with Iman and his friends; I knew I had a slim chance of getting into his room, but I was in a state of urgency when I smelled the vapors escaping from his door. I knocked once, turned the knob, and stumbled into Iman’s den.
Three boys turned to look at once.
“Oh… hi… I heard you guys up. I couldn’t sleep either.” Iman looked at me and I gazed into his eyes. I hoped that he would let me stay; I hoped that he would help me forget my feelings. “Yea Mary, come on in, come on in. What is Mary, Mary up to tonight?” I pushed the door a little, but there was a towel on the floor, so I scooted in and pushed the towel into the crack under the door where it was needed.
“I’ve just been drinking”. I had my big red cup in my hand and I held it up and stumbled over to sit between the guys. I know that they all noticed how I wobbled into the room and crashed in the middle of the bedroom floor. Iman was sitting on his mattress which was on the floor under his roommates bunk, and I sat right next to that, in between the two guys that were playing video games on opposite sides of the room. They were playing FIFA soccer and I remember thinking that if only I knew how to play video games, loads of guys would be interested in me. The boys had been smoking and I could smell it on them; I hoped that they had more left and when Iman asked me if I wanted to share a bowl with them, I was inwardly thrilled.
We all had a couple hits and finally I was feeling relaxed. Maybe the night wasn’t going to be a totally failure after all. Iman asked me if I wanted some really expensive, really fine liquor that I had never heard of before and I told him I did, and then as if it were an unspoken code, the two boys playing video games felt suddenly exhausted and said they were going to try and catch some sleep. So they left and Iman got me a drink, and while I drank that sweet divine, he packed another bowl, started a movie and sat down on the floor next to me.
I was swimming in my head; my eyes were extra hazy from the mixture of booze and herbal delight that we had refilled ourselves with and when Iman started to rub his hands up and down my legs, and over my thighs, I was more than ready for him.
But we didn’t fuck upstairs in his room. We went downstairs to my single, and I laid down on my back for him and let him in. He didn’t fuck me hard, but he was thick and longer than I had experienced before and he went in deep. He took it to the limit and a little farther and stayed in longer than I thought was necessary and he took his time about it. He was such a big man and he was drunk and stoned and so was I and he felt like a brick wall crushing down into me. I just couldn’t get him off me and he ignored my cries to stop, and all I could think was that it wasn’t his fault. I was the one who had come to his room searching for closeness. But something had gone wrong in my plan… this closeness was too close and not nearly as personal as I wanted it to be.
When he was finished, I thought that this was my time. I thought that he would stay with me for the night; I thought for sure he would stay and hold me close to his body, and make me at least feel loved for one short night.
But he didn’t stay. When he left, I locked my door, and crawled into bed naked and sore. I buried my tears into my pillow, and cried myself to sleep, feeling broken and stupid and used, as I deserved to be.
T and Will
“You did what!?” T picks up his cell phone. “Man, you hear this shit? This shit’s crazy.”
The way T’s laughing and carrying on to the guy on the phone with him, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself for the way I handled the situation.
“Shit girl, did you sever it? Where is he? Is he cryin’?”
“No I didn’t sever it… I just bit it …hard. What was I supposed to do, he wouldn’t let me go”.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. But it wasn’t like that. I didn’t go down on him. He said he had wanted to talk to me outside. Actually, he had said that he wanted to feel my lips on his, one more time; that would have been the second time. The first time was a peck; he had had his hands between my legs and all over my lap in the car on the way to the bar and at the red light he had made me feel his astonishing thick, eight inch “personality”. He was Salvadorian and Italian and I couldn’t resist his dark eyes and Latino accent. Now normally, it was I who grabbed first, but tonight, for the first time, it was different. Tonight I felt the burden that I was carrying.
When we got to the bar, he wanted to grab me in the parking lot and then again in the bar while we sat on the bar stools; but I didn’t want it. How could I fool around when T was sitting was with us? I had been overwhelmingly depressed for good reasons at Crazy Eights, and he had sat down next to me and talked on and on about how we were going to be the best of friends as slowly he inched his barstool closer to mine and he talked to me of going fishing and art and bowling, things I actually enjoy doing and I forgot about being sad and the billiards and all the rounds of beer that he and T and other’s had guzzled down.
But at the bar, I didn’t want to kiss him there with T sitting right next to me. I didn’t want to give him a real kiss with my lips and my tongue loving on his lips and his tongue; I didn’t want to kiss him for real, because he had a fiancée. He had a fiancée whom I had met and shook hands with four hours prior to the three of us going to the bar. And five hours prior to the three of us going to the bar, I had met the he and T for the first time at the Crazy Eights pool hall. And seven hours prior to that, I had received news from my doctor that I had signs of the human papiloma virus and other atypical cells in my cervix. And one hour later, I had gone to the liquor store to stock up on gin and juice, then to the gas station to make sure I would make it to Sam’s birthday party, but the gas pumps weren’t working, because the gas pump attendant said I had laid my debit card down on the magnetic strip at the liquor store and that had ruined the strip on my card and that’s why the pay at the pump hadn’t worked, but he fixed it which calmed me down a bit, but the fact that I had gone to the grocery store and spent twenty minutes looking for the damn pineapple juice for the gin and juice that I had purchased for Sam’s birthday, had pushed me over the edge, and my best friends in North Carolina hadn’t answered their phones so I could tell them the bad news, and so I spent the whole drive down to Crazy Eights from Leesburg to Sterling cursing God the Almighty for fucking over my whole life by cursing me with the lonely girls burden.
But at the bar, he was in control of my delicate state. He told me again that if I would be his new friend and lover and playmate and that if he really liked me, he would leave his fiancée. And at the pool house, this thought had excited me and I opened my legs so that he could feel how excited it made me. And that had driven him on, it had given him a newly energized and even more powerful clutch on the situation, but I would not figure that out until a few hours later when the three of us were at the bar and he was urgently begging me for a second kiss.
I had told him and T hours before that I had a 1:30 am curfew, which was new; and that I had to leave by 12:30 am to get home on time. But it was completely obvious to me at 11:30 pm that he was going to have his way with Cinderella by the stroke of midnight despite what she said. Of course I was frustrated, but mostly I was upset. I had been cheated on once before and it had been a bad breakup, a real bad breakup. It had been the kind of high school breakup that lands you in the hospital for a day and in therapy for the rest of your life. In hindsight though, that therapy had been one of the good parts of my life, because here I was now recognizing that what this engaged man was doing was wrong and that his fiancée should know that this is how he acts around other women and that she should not have to feel the way that I know she will feel when she finds out that he has cheated on her.
And I start to realize that this man is sleazy. Earlier he couldn’t tell me why he loved his fiancée and why he had proposed to her other than the fact that he had to hold onto the one woman that he thought was the one. But now, by pursuing me and my body so avidly, he was threatening his own marriage, his own sacred ceremony; the one ceremony that I have spent countless nights yearning for.
When I asked for my bill, that bartender had put T and his’ beers on my tab, and I was not about to pay for their bill: we had just met, but we weren’t exactly old pals. I was just going to pay for my part of the bill, but he kept saying some bullshit about how I was his friend now and I guess his lover and how he was going to pick up the tab, but I was confused on why he wanted to pay, when I had my own money, but I gave up on trying to understand his nonsense and left the bill on the counter.
T was so dazed from the 5 or so pitchers of beer, and the beer at the bar which he had split with his friends, that he didn’t really talk to me except when my pursuer went to the bathroom. Then he leaned over to me and said “you see those two men across from us”? “They’re playas. They’re about to dump hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars on those girls tonight”. Those girls he was talking about looked nothing like me. They were both skinny, clear faced, and had huge breasts that were spilling out of their low necked shirts. There was a white man and a black man chatting it up with the girls. I could tell that the black man had style and finesse; he looked liked he could be a nice guy, but he had to step back from his game, because the white guy was desperate. The white guy was so desperate he was high-fiving the girls, I guess whenever he had something in common with them. I could tell by the way the girls were laughing that they were more laughing at him and his pathetic game then they were at the things they may have had in common.
T fell back into a daze when he came back from the bathroom and tried to slide his hands around my thighs. Throughout the hour or so at the bar, I had told him to stop, stop, stop, stop! But then afterwards, I had made the mistake of grabbing him under the table. He told me that it wasn’t fair that I could touch but he couldn’t touch me back. And finally, when I couldn’t hold him back anymore, he followed me outside, as we left T at the bar.
He had said he had just wanted to feel my lips on his, but the truth was that had been part of his plan. He must have known that if he could get me outside in the parking lot to chat, that he could just as easily get me into my car to chat, and once we got into my car, he stroked me again, which was hard to resist. But I did. I didn’t want him to do those things to me, in a car, in a lit parking lot, while T was waiting for us at the bar, and we had told him that we would go outside a moment to talk. I told him that I didn’t want to do this in a parking lot, I didn’t want to get arrested for public-god-knows-what and that I had to be home soon. He said alright; he said that he would go, but he looked at me so sincerely and asked for just one last kiss. And, of course, I melted. And I leaned forward to kiss him, and we kissed for a moment and then he pushed his mouth back into mine and locked himself onto my face. He was using his hand to grab the back of my head and push it into his face and his other hand to grab between my legs. I tried to pull my head backwards, but I couldn’t; he was actually forcing my head into his so he could lip lock me and I kept pulling my head back, because it was starting to be that I couldn’t breathe, and he kept holding me tight so that couldn’t get out of his grip, and for a moment fear rushed through me, because I wasn’t in control of the situation, but in the next moment I took control. In the next moment, his tongue entered my mouth and instead of reciprocating, I bit down with my teeth; I bit down on his tongue to the point where I could feel it actually crunch under my teeth. And immediately he let go of my head and jerked away, looking at me bewildered, as if I was the one who had stepped over the line, and he grabbed my rearview mirror of my car and twisted it in such a way towards him to look at his tongue in the mirror that I became immediately alarmed that he was going to break off the mirror to my brand new Honda Fit, and that’s when I starting screaming.
“Get out of my car! Get the fuck out of my car!”
And in the next moment, he got the fuck out of my car, and I immediately locked the car doors, and reversed the car out of the parking lot and I pulled in next to T’s car, because I had seen him walk past my car on his way out of the bar, where he must have thought we had bailed on him to go to a hotel room, but we hadn’t, and I wanted to say goodbye to him, before I drove home for the night.
I wanted to say goodbye because he hadn’t done me wrong that night, his friend had. After we exchanged numbers, he told me to just brush off what happened tonight, to just brush it off my shoulder, and as I sat there thinking whether I should pull out or not, he came and stood next to my car, and I rolled up the windows and smiled sardonically at him, with the doors locked. And I thought to myself, that maybe I had gone too far, but at the same time that he shouldn’t have held on to me, but before I could really think things through, T pulled out of the parking space, in his black sedan, and I followed the two friends. Sitting at a stop sign, I watched them cross the double lanes, pulling straight ahead of me, on their way to Fairfax, where I knew T lived, and I turned left and then left again at the intersection, and finally, I turned my back on them.
The way T’s laughing and carrying on to the guy on the phone with him, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself for the way I handled the situation.
“Shit girl, did you sever it? Where is he? Is he cryin’?”
“No I didn’t sever it… I just bit it …hard. What was I supposed to do, he wouldn’t let me go”.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. But it wasn’t like that. I didn’t go down on him. He said he had wanted to talk to me outside. Actually, he had said that he wanted to feel my lips on his, one more time; that would have been the second time. The first time was a peck; he had had his hands between my legs and all over my lap in the car on the way to the bar and at the red light he had made me feel his astonishing thick, eight inch “personality”. He was Salvadorian and Italian and I couldn’t resist his dark eyes and Latino accent. Now normally, it was I who grabbed first, but tonight, for the first time, it was different. Tonight I felt the burden that I was carrying.
When we got to the bar, he wanted to grab me in the parking lot and then again in the bar while we sat on the bar stools; but I didn’t want it. How could I fool around when T was sitting was with us? I had been overwhelmingly depressed for good reasons at Crazy Eights, and he had sat down next to me and talked on and on about how we were going to be the best of friends as slowly he inched his barstool closer to mine and he talked to me of going fishing and art and bowling, things I actually enjoy doing and I forgot about being sad and the billiards and all the rounds of beer that he and T and other’s had guzzled down.
But at the bar, I didn’t want to kiss him there with T sitting right next to me. I didn’t want to give him a real kiss with my lips and my tongue loving on his lips and his tongue; I didn’t want to kiss him for real, because he had a fiancée. He had a fiancée whom I had met and shook hands with four hours prior to the three of us going to the bar. And five hours prior to the three of us going to the bar, I had met the he and T for the first time at the Crazy Eights pool hall. And seven hours prior to that, I had received news from my doctor that I had signs of the human papiloma virus and other atypical cells in my cervix. And one hour later, I had gone to the liquor store to stock up on gin and juice, then to the gas station to make sure I would make it to Sam’s birthday party, but the gas pumps weren’t working, because the gas pump attendant said I had laid my debit card down on the magnetic strip at the liquor store and that had ruined the strip on my card and that’s why the pay at the pump hadn’t worked, but he fixed it which calmed me down a bit, but the fact that I had gone to the grocery store and spent twenty minutes looking for the damn pineapple juice for the gin and juice that I had purchased for Sam’s birthday, had pushed me over the edge, and my best friends in North Carolina hadn’t answered their phones so I could tell them the bad news, and so I spent the whole drive down to Crazy Eights from Leesburg to Sterling cursing God the Almighty for fucking over my whole life by cursing me with the lonely girls burden.
But at the bar, he was in control of my delicate state. He told me again that if I would be his new friend and lover and playmate and that if he really liked me, he would leave his fiancée. And at the pool house, this thought had excited me and I opened my legs so that he could feel how excited it made me. And that had driven him on, it had given him a newly energized and even more powerful clutch on the situation, but I would not figure that out until a few hours later when the three of us were at the bar and he was urgently begging me for a second kiss.
I had told him and T hours before that I had a 1:30 am curfew, which was new; and that I had to leave by 12:30 am to get home on time. But it was completely obvious to me at 11:30 pm that he was going to have his way with Cinderella by the stroke of midnight despite what she said. Of course I was frustrated, but mostly I was upset. I had been cheated on once before and it had been a bad breakup, a real bad breakup. It had been the kind of high school breakup that lands you in the hospital for a day and in therapy for the rest of your life. In hindsight though, that therapy had been one of the good parts of my life, because here I was now recognizing that what this engaged man was doing was wrong and that his fiancée should know that this is how he acts around other women and that she should not have to feel the way that I know she will feel when she finds out that he has cheated on her.
And I start to realize that this man is sleazy. Earlier he couldn’t tell me why he loved his fiancée and why he had proposed to her other than the fact that he had to hold onto the one woman that he thought was the one. But now, by pursuing me and my body so avidly, he was threatening his own marriage, his own sacred ceremony; the one ceremony that I have spent countless nights yearning for.
When I asked for my bill, that bartender had put T and his’ beers on my tab, and I was not about to pay for their bill: we had just met, but we weren’t exactly old pals. I was just going to pay for my part of the bill, but he kept saying some bullshit about how I was his friend now and I guess his lover and how he was going to pick up the tab, but I was confused on why he wanted to pay, when I had my own money, but I gave up on trying to understand his nonsense and left the bill on the counter.
T was so dazed from the 5 or so pitchers of beer, and the beer at the bar which he had split with his friends, that he didn’t really talk to me except when my pursuer went to the bathroom. Then he leaned over to me and said “you see those two men across from us”? “They’re playas. They’re about to dump hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars on those girls tonight”. Those girls he was talking about looked nothing like me. They were both skinny, clear faced, and had huge breasts that were spilling out of their low necked shirts. There was a white man and a black man chatting it up with the girls. I could tell that the black man had style and finesse; he looked liked he could be a nice guy, but he had to step back from his game, because the white guy was desperate. The white guy was so desperate he was high-fiving the girls, I guess whenever he had something in common with them. I could tell by the way the girls were laughing that they were more laughing at him and his pathetic game then they were at the things they may have had in common.
T fell back into a daze when he came back from the bathroom and tried to slide his hands around my thighs. Throughout the hour or so at the bar, I had told him to stop, stop, stop, stop! But then afterwards, I had made the mistake of grabbing him under the table. He told me that it wasn’t fair that I could touch but he couldn’t touch me back. And finally, when I couldn’t hold him back anymore, he followed me outside, as we left T at the bar.
He had said he had just wanted to feel my lips on his, but the truth was that had been part of his plan. He must have known that if he could get me outside in the parking lot to chat, that he could just as easily get me into my car to chat, and once we got into my car, he stroked me again, which was hard to resist. But I did. I didn’t want him to do those things to me, in a car, in a lit parking lot, while T was waiting for us at the bar, and we had told him that we would go outside a moment to talk. I told him that I didn’t want to do this in a parking lot, I didn’t want to get arrested for public-god-knows-what and that I had to be home soon. He said alright; he said that he would go, but he looked at me so sincerely and asked for just one last kiss. And, of course, I melted. And I leaned forward to kiss him, and we kissed for a moment and then he pushed his mouth back into mine and locked himself onto my face. He was using his hand to grab the back of my head and push it into his face and his other hand to grab between my legs. I tried to pull my head backwards, but I couldn’t; he was actually forcing my head into his so he could lip lock me and I kept pulling my head back, because it was starting to be that I couldn’t breathe, and he kept holding me tight so that couldn’t get out of his grip, and for a moment fear rushed through me, because I wasn’t in control of the situation, but in the next moment I took control. In the next moment, his tongue entered my mouth and instead of reciprocating, I bit down with my teeth; I bit down on his tongue to the point where I could feel it actually crunch under my teeth. And immediately he let go of my head and jerked away, looking at me bewildered, as if I was the one who had stepped over the line, and he grabbed my rearview mirror of my car and twisted it in such a way towards him to look at his tongue in the mirror that I became immediately alarmed that he was going to break off the mirror to my brand new Honda Fit, and that’s when I starting screaming.
“Get out of my car! Get the fuck out of my car!”
And in the next moment, he got the fuck out of my car, and I immediately locked the car doors, and reversed the car out of the parking lot and I pulled in next to T’s car, because I had seen him walk past my car on his way out of the bar, where he must have thought we had bailed on him to go to a hotel room, but we hadn’t, and I wanted to say goodbye to him, before I drove home for the night.
I wanted to say goodbye because he hadn’t done me wrong that night, his friend had. After we exchanged numbers, he told me to just brush off what happened tonight, to just brush it off my shoulder, and as I sat there thinking whether I should pull out or not, he came and stood next to my car, and I rolled up the windows and smiled sardonically at him, with the doors locked. And I thought to myself, that maybe I had gone too far, but at the same time that he shouldn’t have held on to me, but before I could really think things through, T pulled out of the parking space, in his black sedan, and I followed the two friends. Sitting at a stop sign, I watched them cross the double lanes, pulling straight ahead of me, on their way to Fairfax, where I knew T lived, and I turned left and then left again at the intersection, and finally, I turned my back on them.
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