big, easy, fast, money
When I tell the story I’ll make him an oil man
who gives me towers of chips for the poker tables
who gives me the jangling keys to the city, a playground full of cake,
a mouthful of gold balloons
and asks for nothing much in return
I wanted to be an artist,
and you know how this story goes –
a girl does what she has to do
a girl needs a little help every now & then
a girl cleans up nicely
When I tell it, she’ll look like Kim Novak,
sparkling dress, furs upon feathers upon furs
paid to tame governors, barons, and kings
(beige lycra legs boa-constricting around rich throats)
to sign a dozen NDAs, to become wordless
When I come home from the trip
I smoke a bowl and go to my closet
I touch every single dress
like a blessing of protection and then I
go to sleep alone
Sascha
Sascha is a writer who grew up in Los Angeles.