I struck a wonderful balance, diamonds
during the day,
dildos at
night. 2 part-time jobs requiring
2 separate wardrobes
and no
health insurance. Still, my yin
was at peace with my yang.
Even my
lovers were in delicious equilibrium, one into double
penetration,
the other a virgin veiled in lavender with a pierced
tongue. My love affair with Vicodin was over,
kissed goodbye
by my fling
with poppers and Altoids. Jalapeño
jelly in harmony
with
Marshmallow Fluff. Oh beautiful
days, those were. Marrow
in perfect
accord with bone. Death scene with
sex scene.
What
churned the waters was a boy wearing peacock blue fuck-me
lashes who
jumped on my lily pad. All he
wanted was an air
conditioning
upgrade. His little bread box
window unit couldn’t
hold a
candle to my 25,000 BTUs. Stayed
through the heat wave.
His leaving
was all it took for Madame Justice’s scales to tip
toward
crazy. Not long before I was in
double-double lock down
in a rubber
room that smelled like pee and night crawlers.
Laughed so
hard I blew my sleeve, stomach staples rattling loose.
Enter
hunger, stage left, and a one-eyed nurse demanding
an apology
or I’d never see the light of day again, never
wrap my
lips around a hot dog or slurp an oyster.
I was wack,
but still sane enough to call her Cyclops.
