hateFLIRT / Dear friend,

I saw your face today while at the laundry mat. The spin cycle never seems to end. I miss you.

from Oakland with love,

NAZ

YOU ARE A TRICKSTER MAKING MAGIC

EPITHALAMIUM

You’re beeswax and I’m bird shit. 

I’m mostly harmless. You’re irrational. 

If I’m iniquity then you’re theft. 

One of us is supercalifragilistic. 

If I’m the most insane disgusting filth

you’re hardly curiosa. 

You’re bubble wrap to my fingertips

You’re winter sleep and I’m the bee dance. 

And I am menthol and you are eggshell. 

When you’re atrocious I am Spellcheck. 

You’re the yen. I’m the Nepalese pound. 

If I’m homesteading you’re radical chic. 

I’m carpet shock and you’re the rail. 

I’m Memory Foam Day on Price-Drop TV

and you’re the Lord of Misrule who shrieks

when I surface in goggles through duckweed, 

and I am Trafalgar, and you’re Waterloo, 

and frequently it seems to me that I am you, 

and you are me. If I’m the rising incantation

you’re the charm, or I am, or you are. 

-Nick Laird

my bank

A pretty woman with a Louis Vuitton bag slung over her shoulder is making a phone call, mini bottle of Sutter Home in hand. She’s downtown, on Broadway, not far from the sprawling lawn of City Hall and right in front of my bank. I’m drinking my iced tea, I just deposited a check. She grabs the attention of four young men, city workers, in orange vests. 

The handsome orange vest, with implication in his gaze says,

“You getting reception?” 

He’s ignored, but after several steps she turns and asks,

“how much you make?”

Now he’s got her attention and he’s suprised,

“why you asking?”

She waves her hand like she’s tossing a bean bag, “cuz, i ask him how much he makes, he says 9 dollars, and he over there says 11, and how come you all making different amounts?”

He looks at the other street sweeper, “he just started” broom in hand, both ears pierced with diamond studs, “I make 12”

She puts the phone back up to her cheek, “I still make more than all you all.” 

She could be looking for a job or she could be rejecting them, or both. Sutter Home mini’s never looked so premium before.

I was on a walk along Telegraph, it was also a hot day. I stopped in the Downtown Goodwill because the heat made me think I wanted to look at dresses, then there she was, a glimmer of glamor. Her name is Chloe and her tattoo might have said, “Heat of the Night.”
So this guy wanted his picture taken. he had a dollar bill hanging out of the back of his shorts. I was happy that he was happy, and he nodded to the girls at the bus stop when i approached him. Is he crazy for wearing fur on a scorching late-spring day? No he’s got swagger, he’s 16, and he left his shirt at school.