Saturday, January 20, 2007


The first thing I asked KC was if his tattoos hurt. He said 'not anymore.' Chagrining. When we met he looked tussled. Whitey said I always wanted you two to meet. We had once before a year ago. None of us realized. Later I remembered how strange the stone dildos on his dresser were at that first party. And that he played darts and was very kind. Ultimately at first it was the drink that was our link.

Driving down main street in Maine the stone catholic church wears a banner on its black railing. CATHOLICS CAN ALWAYS COME HOME. I wonder if I should turn around. Brooklyn always seems much larger as you drive away from it. A bull’s eye that grows with distance. I remember I smoked a cigarette once inside that church and feel smug, push on around the corner through the blazing darkness.

He gave me my first and only bump of K and my first of several black eyes. KC and I were fastly together. I was cranky he would fall down in the street in the rain in front of cars to make me laugh. I busted my kneecaps in the subway station he carried me up the stairs. Halfway until he found a fire extinguisher and gave me a little motivation. Me sliding up the remaining flights on my ass. We were wild with boredom. We pasted out on our bellies in the dust.


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