She held her Chablis and sipped over her double Ds during her solo lunch at the Vietnamese bistro, placing onto the rim of her glass her two lips plumped with Restylane then fluttering a set of eyelashes worthy of the iconic Marlene, who, coincidental to our little rhyming scheme, had her film debut in 1930. Continue reading “eyelashes fit for marlene”
I see a near-constant stream of different women emerging from the apartment unit across from mine. I’m starting to wonder whether it’s a point of entry from a different dimension. Maybe the “women” are teleporting to that location for who knows what reason.
It’s a second-floor unit, and from my dining room window, I often spot them descending the stairs ambivalently into their new environment — just like aliens disembarking their ships via a deployed staircase after landing on a planetary port of call. Continue reading “aliens”
I was thinking about a woman i dated, the one i met online, whose back was what really attracted me initially. it was the first part of her anatomy i saw bare, & the image of it was posted on the website through which we met.
it was what she used as her profile pic, in fact. in it, she faced away from the camera & had her head down & off to the side, which placed more emphasis on the bones & curves of her slender back & the small tattoo of a star on her right shoulder. loud & clear, her christlike pose said, here is my body. Continue reading “bare back”
An american girl as wholesome-looking as you please squatted atop a glass coffee table naked in a ritzy contemporary-style home in the suburbs and peed and then slammed down in a stabbing motion a glass jelly suction-cupped dildo that i thought seemed rather appealing — with its fruit stripe- or jelly bean-inspired color scheme — and would actually consider purchasing , but the girl did not state where she had procured it but instead crouched down and inched forward, her feet threatening to give way as if on a soapy tub floor until finally easing herself onto it in all of its see-through multi-colored exquisiteness
if I ever gained access to the Stanley Cup, such as if it was given to me because I was so awesome, I’d pry off that black plate at the bottom that looks like the lid of a coffee can and I’d hope the inside was as hollow as a vase. If so, I’d clean it out and dump a mess of Pretty in Paris moisturizing body wash into it, fill it with hot water and give myself a pedi.
As we packed boxes in her bedroom for her to move downtown, the chill track on Pandora sounded like seduction or something like the unimpeded breach of taboo or seeping glops of wildflower honey from a tabletop onto a white-tiled floor in a sterile room or like the dirty downfall of someone stoic or a secret animal or quiet uncaging of a deep-rooted impulse to defy after all like a forbidden undressing or a slow gush relished to the last drop with something unmistakenly lascivious across their lips as they lapped it up.
My grandmother had a sing-song voice
and wore lipstick and Shalimar — pricey
but she never worked a day in her life
my mother swore on more than one occasion
In the alley of our Bronx building
I’d hear her singing
from her second-floor window
as she did house chores
(we lived on the first floor)
“La-di-dum,” she would croon
along to maybe “Sentimental Journey”
or perhaps an old Bing Crosby song
or “The Girl from Ipanema” as sung
by bossa-nova queen Astrud Gilberto
With its big dials and box-like form
her portable AM/FM radio
would go on through the better part
of the afternoon, song after song
so maybe that’s how she acquired a voice
with such gratifying inflections and poise
I went to a tweetup once @ a pricey club on the las vegas strip with outdoor seating. a bunch of us social media strangers sat around drinking cocktails and talking tweets. one guy was fixed on growing his trove of followers. he bragged that he had a shitload and asked if i’d become part of his fold. instead i gave my loyal followship to this attractive girl in white denim shorts & a mid-rise shirt. Continue reading “when twitter played cupid”
: Random Letters Series :
OMG…The maid (the one with that big bun on her head) must have been pleasuring herself in the empty apartment next door this morning. Seriously!! I heard her thrashing about in the tub! At first I thought she was just scrubbing it to get it ready for the incoming tenants, but then I heard her making noises like she was having sex. I doubt I’m imaging things because that bathroom is RIGHT next door to mine. (I heard it while I was tweezing my eyebrows.)
The German woman who just moved out used to do it in that tub, too, only she was more discreet about it. She most likely used a vibrator or something because I’d never heard her boyfriend with her, only some moaning (slowly building into climax.) But with the maid, I kept hearing what sounded like her whole body moving around, her skin making that muffled screeching sound against the tub surface and her limbs and bones making that thudding noise. You know that hollow-ish sound the tub makes?
Anyway, I just thought this was interesting being as only yesterday we mentioned to her that the German chick had the hots for her. What do you think?? 🙂