Give me someone reasonably bright. Not dumb, but neuro-typical enough. Alive, but not too rough with me at night. Upright, but not hooked on R.F.K.! Stuff about my childhood shouldn’t throw him, but his background should be smooth. I want a guy who’s down to hit the gym three times a week; if I’m sick, he’ll soothe my headache with a lullaby, but not keep crooning after I get well. I’ll purse my lips, he’ll kiss me: hot, but not too hot. No grandiose dark poet, high on blank verse. I need a mystic like Godzilla needs a magazine....Read More
Author: Jamey Hecht
What’s in your mind, my dove, my coney? —W. H. Auden I’ll never quote again “my dove, my coney,” nor guess the mystery of what you want. I’ll focus on my work, and make some money to spend my days remembering. I can’t convince myself it’s not because a curse has cast its karmic spear and run me through, nor make last Summer happen in reverse to try again, nor cry my way back to our old apartment. Satan cannot die his way to Heaven whence he came, win back the love of God, any more than I can...Read More
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