Saturdays with Coltrane
Remind me of my best dreams where
I am born from the stars and I can
fly and there are pink Easter eggs
hidden behind bushes
All of the doors open, no adults
to tell me this or that
Only the scent of freshly cut grass
twirling everywhere, my body
tart from its own making
I am safe I am safe I am safe
under a cloud of saxophone prayer
Sounds : like freedom
The Big Kind
In grad school there was this older dude who wanted to fuck me I thought he’d be slick with it and wait a few weeks you know like a gentleman he was a painter nice smile long locs satisfying chin of salt and pepper hair it was snowing and he picked me up in his car and took me to his apartment he served me this stew thing that had too many different meats after the first few bites I was suspicious that should have been my red flag to get the fuck out of there but I was hearing a voice telling me to be polite and finish my food he kept talking to me about art and how nice it was that I could play an instrument how he wished he had that gift and my stomach started talking to me like grumble grumble next thing I know his lips are on mine and I’m frozen I can’t move this is a familiar feeling but I’m still a little nervous his tongue feels like a sumo wrestler on my lips I can’t keep shut he pries me open now I’m floating up to the ceiling and I can see myself walking with him to his bedroom where all of the windows are open even though it’s the dead of winter I can still smell whatever he’s trying to hide it reminds me of a sweaty windbreaker then my clothes are off and I’m a mountain, no I’m a desert and it’s like I’m lost inside of my own body as he pumps I glance out the window see the pristine snow and he gently pats my thigh and then the girl on the ceiling has an epiphany she realizes that the limp black body on that mattress is hers and scoops her up onto her feet out the door into the moonlight