Cleaning Day

She cleans herself up nice
and though she's barely twenty
she amply entertains beyond her years
over coffee and under sheets
but never in her own home

for no sane person could excuse
the piles of shit-stained clothing
creeping along nicotine-yellow walls
littered on a floor
so layered with dirt
the soles of her feet are always black

or her once-beautiful balcony overlooking the willow trees
uninhabitable now
with weeks-old garbage and
the sunbaked smell of rot

or the dirty dishes
caked with old cooking
overwhelming the sink, tempting the flies
who've made a home with her
in her sweaty apartment in the alphabets

the flies
those six-legged scavengers
are the only ones who'd accept her
and she desperately wants to be loved
so she lets them whirr in her company
though she hates the sound of buzzing
and how they nip her ankles while she sleeps

the years pass and the girl grows older
not much has changed
but her youth is gone and her charm is fading
ages ago, with the best of intentions
she'd bought a broom and dustpan
but her studio stayed the same
and the flies remained

till the day came
when she died sleeping
and her winged companions picked
the plastic garbage bags,
the dishes, her clothes
and her bones

clean

Do they learn to hail taxis in daycare?

I was on St. Marks and Second Ave
when I saw this kid
standing around three feet tall
with a backpack and huge eyes
frantically trying to wave down a cab,
catching the attention of no one around him.
I stopped for a second,
and wondered what the hell he was doing
alone in the street,
about to get into a creepy cab by himself,
and I took a few steps forward,
thinking I’d help him out.
but I paused when the light turned red,
because if I wanted to hail this boy a taxi,
i mean,
“I’d have to wait for it to turn green again
which would take forever
and I really wanna get home
because it’s cold outside
and I’m tired
and I’m sure the kid’ll get a cab eventually,
and you know,
if he's a real city kid
he might not even want my help anyway...”
So I went on walking,
like many New Yorkers would,
but even days later,
I kind of wish I helped him.

Faggotry from Early January

it was snowing at eight-fifty this morning,

when you kissed a boy on the cheek

“it was lovely to meet you,”

you knew you were never going to see him again.

His name was Lucian,

an underage kid you met the night before

at a music venue in Williamsburg.

really, you weren’t into the idea of going out that night

because it was cold

and a train ride seemed like too much effort

for overpriced drinks and a hipster crowd,

but you just had to get laid...

so to Bedford you went

in a short dress and tights-

your legs were numb and windburnt by the time you got there.

You were having a cigarette with your flirtacious crew of lesbians

when he stopped to ask what your name was.

He didn’t seem to mind that you stumbled around on the dance floor

or that you lit a cigarette indoors

or that you had to beg the bouncer to let you back in

and at the end of the night, when he asked for your number,

you suggested you spend the night with him instead.

He hailed a cab for the financial district

The backseat might has well’ve been a mattress.

You woke on the top of a dormroom bunkbed.

Lucian found your clothes when you told him to,

and upon getting into a cab,

you realized that 2010 was going to be a good year,

because you went out to get what you were looking for,

even if it was a substitute for something better,

and you found this morning

that Chico’s murals on Loisada,

the ones that always looked like propaganda to you,

were beautiful

because they reminded you that you were home.

and for a second you forgot how much you hated winter

because snow makes everything look beautiful.

The evening left your tights shredded,

your wallet cashless,

and even though the sex was good,

you can’t stop thinking about that something better.

Which is remarkable,

considering he’s twelve years your senior

and he’s been a junkie for almost as long as you’ve been alive,

and he can’t afford his rent,

and you’re sure the only thing he really likes about you

is that you’re a body capable of keeping the other side of his bed warm...

it’s amazing the way your brain works sometimes.

If only my parents knew.

They were right in not wanting me to come here.

They told me there’d be too many distractions

that it’d be too easy to get lost

And that it gets really cold in New York City,

But that’s okay today

Because I’m still young

And snow makes everything beautiful.