Mar 17


I’m telling Skiff that I’d never rat him out. After all, we have the same scars in similar places.

& I know about the fishmonger heist, which girls work the office without panties, the fall of the Chinese broker, who’s missing fingers. Where the missing fingers are kept.

I know that Skiff owns the locks. The rest of us drown in urban intra-uterine despair.

Wives confessing to their husbands about affairs. The husbands considering penis implants. Skiff planting mice in shoe stores, kidnapping the lead witness & torturing him with tiny needles to the tongue.

No. I won’t rat on Skiff.

In this town, no one talks. My mouth is dry. My words have holes.

Because all I want out of this life

is a good blow job in a Penn Station bathroom

by someone without teeth

but who still believes in Easter bunnies

& the ten simple rules of good etiquette.

–Kyle Hemmings