versace 

​

the crumbled building lies where it has fallen over 300 decaying humans that made clothing from plants and animal skin. they all wore garments--that other people made--from their dead mothers and secret girlfriends

everything is a secret here. a man approaches me and asked what am I writing. "how long you in town baby?" his eyes gazed at my breasts that glistened toward his teeth as he bites his lip

I use my hand to wipe the sweat from my cleavage and use my hair to wipe the sweat from my face finding intermittent ways to hide. i wiped them both at the same time.

 

I tell him I'm writing a letter to my boyfriend and that I leave town soon. Right now, even. I have a big performance and should hurry. he says, "what a beautiful women on a beautiful day!!!!!!!" 

 

i wonder if he believes that the day is truly beautiful. there was smut in the air from all the rotting souls beneath the crumbled building.

I've never had a boyfriend before. I think of my girlfriend making sculptures in another state about men like him. men that make you want to leave.

 

My mother died in that building, right over there pointing as if i couldn't spot it directly beside us. she got paid $2 a day to make pants that Versace bought and sold for $1300 a pair. and then she died for those pants. You can find  this price on the internet. 

 

a large tree bearing ripened fruit. sticky in men's beards and in baskets on the heads of women. infected pigs and horses and chickens animal paws inside of human mouths.robots on a large cotton field from a historical plantation that no one acknowledges. babies dying from fecal matter in the air that she calls home.

 

I think of my girlfriend in another state making sculptures about women like his mother. her pet goat outlived her. he still takes care of that goat and is a good stockman. sculptures about men that didn't let you leave even when you wanted to.

 

they made jeans that rest tight on ass that is good for squishing a lover.

i reach behind me and squeeze my own, thinking of her again. the man doesn't see where my hand rests. he told me to come back with him and pressed his hand near my leg. his hand near my leg. he says he is a good guy with a lot of money. he asks how much money i want from him. he could pay me $700, just 1 night. thats less than the cost of a pair of pants that his mother made. when i say no for the 5th time he presses a large hand firm into my chest says ok $500. blowjob. that i'm a good girl and that he wants my best. every woman he takes home has a good time. 

 

i've never given a man a blow job and think of my girlfriend and his mother and dying babies i can give him my best there can be sculptures of me. the hand still behind me now moves into my back pocket for a palm sized weapon to give him my best.