My buddies all assume their residences
was brothels. I don’t assume
any of them ever had been, however it’s a becoming mythology
for an eerie, rundown place with the unique mahoganies,
hex tiles, and claw-foots. Intercourse is a spot for ghosts. Intercourse, cities,
specialty markets with vacant glass fish counters, gilded
wine bars shut with the dissipation of frivolity
that necessitates a gilded wine bar.
It’s the Fourth of July. Town is empty.
Stoplights change. Shifting
powerbox gears echo the metallic rattle of cart
on concrete. Pals have modified residences,
companions, furnishings. The Fort Rose,
the Cambrian, the Premier, the Gentry.
Tangerine pleather pullout,
mid-century tweed, black leather-based chesterfield.
On the way in which to a celebration, I cease outdoors the Fort Rose.
It’s pale pink, mint, and soft-edged like a cake.
The neon signal is off, and there’s a tall black gate now
with a key-card sensor. The roses
are nonetheless there. I’m glad to see the roses
are nonetheless there. Somebody has added petunias
to Addily’s outdated balcony.
I’d heard a rumor that Hollywood Classic
had closed down and am relieved
to search out it cluttered, peeling, dilapidated, simply how
I remembered, closed for the Fourth however not
endlessly. Staring via the window on the furs,
chipped coupes, velvet-backed work,
I hear my identify, and it’s Chris,
late to the occasion, carrying
an unmanageable quantity of beer.
After I beloved him, I may by no means have dreamed
for a greater second for him to run into me. It’s sizzling right this moment,
however so am I. I imply sweat, in fact, sweat. However right this moment,
I look rattling good. Little black costume. Freshly dyed roots. Sweat,
sure, however in a sex-oil method, and I’m carrying fragrance. I odor
like sweat and roses. I’m staring right into a constructing
that’s concurrently good and dilapidated.
At this second, I, too, am good and dilapidated. Now
actuality, actuality.
I say, can I provide help to carry that beer? He says no. I say,
that’s insane you’re carrying a lot beer. He says no,
I say sure. He fingers me two six-packs. He says, thanks
for coming. I say, thanks for having me. We make our method
to his new girlfriend’s rooftop the place the occasion
is being held. I go away early. Carl goes to satisfy me
on the fringe of the Willamette, and
we’re going to stroll over it because the fireworks begin.
It’s arduous to have reminiscences within the current. It is a poem
about what’s completed. It is a poem about Addily
and her couches. That is about Addily photographed
in a grocery retailer in a faux-leopard jacket
subsequent to a pyramid of tangerines. It is a poem
about Carl ready on the east finish of the river.
It is a poem about exes. It is a poem
in regards to the future.
