Ramble

Give me your hand, she said, and I could feel the burning in my fingers, where you hand stopped and mine began; you had cold fingers.

I see it in your hand, she said, I see him - and I was ashamed, because I did not feel ashamed.

You can remove a tatoo, but who can remove a night from the flesh in between my thighs\/

I heard that a woman once had purim and pesach tattooed on the insides of her thighs, so her man would have something to eat between them, but I have lost my appetite.

Even pizza is no longer pleasing, perhaps because it is not as easily digested as it once was, and the men no longer come as smoothly as your fingers.

You think I am crazy. I am crazy.

I heard that joke from your mother once, before she bought me a box of lube - which is more than I can say of you, you pig - at least spend on proper condoms - the one form of brand-name luxury \i could afford, on those nights when I had finished working.

I don~t want to be just another job, you said.

Ill give you a job, I replied.

Well, the job is over now.

I do not know how it ended, or why it begun, only that I long for the nights when I did not cry.