(Original version published by Horror Sleaze Trash) … the new version is edited a bit

perusing the telephone singles 

lines in the late nineties

listening to 20 second messages

from absolute strangers

a decade or more before 

any dating sites existed 

apps where pictures are seen and

locations are known beforehand 

this was the Wild West

Russian roulette in a sense

a true fucking gamble

you went by voice and actually

had to trust that the person

on the other end was who

they said they were

I used to make actual lists 

while on the phone with girls

as to why I shouldn’t be

talking to said girls

but occasionally

against my better judgement or

out of sheer desperation

I would meet these women

so after a little while on the phone

one night with a cute sounding girl

I got her address and headed her way

it was about a half hour drive

with vague directions

roughly a decade before

regular people had GPS

I was familiar with the area 

so I had that going for me

as I made the left down the 

dirt road into a trailer park

I started to get that

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ feeling

when I pulled up to the 

dilapidated mobile home 

I audibly said

“what the fuck am I doing?”

I soldiered on

I got out of my car and

walked toward the movable home

I passed piles of trash

dogs on chains and a

beat up El Camino on blocks

I knocked on the door

a dirty kid answered

I asked for, whoever

the dirty kid screamed out

“whoever, somebody’s here for you”

as I peered through the door

numerous inbred-looking faces

stared back at me in confusion

there must have been ten

people in that living room

finally she emerged

in all her glory

we locked eyes and

both gave each a once over

I was absolutely stunned

but the first thing 

she said to me was 

“you are bigger than I 

thought you would be”

I was taken back

a little embarrassed

but also totally confused

because I couldn’t help

but notice the well defined 

at least eight month

pregnant belly on her

I took a step back and said

“well that makes two of us”

birds are singing better 

than any top 40 drivel

a blue sky encompasses me

as I retrohale Latakia

the candle of restlessness 

burns fast

while my contempt 

constantly expands

ambiguous realities

cascade down upon me

up is down and down is the norm

glued to the bottom of living

anticipating anything

but nothing happens

fortunately or unfortunately

that is expected 

a sword of delusion

enters my heart

I extract the blade

to find it dripping 

with culpable confusion

sentimental reflections bring to mind 

memories of winters loss

chemicals do nothing to mend the hurt

only a temporary reprieve

an aching

guttural 

gnawing of emptiness

never to be whole again

my wife got home from 

walking with a friend of hers

she melted into a plush chair with a snack

“I’m so tired” she exhausted 

I asked why she was so tired

“we walked two miles in heels”

I turned abruptly and interrogated 

“in heels?”

I was bombarded by visions 

of my wife and her friend 

walking the streets of some posh 

neighborhood in Spanish Fort

looking for wealthy johns

she finished her bite of sandwich

“no…and hills”

I was at the kitchen table

attempting to write one night

when I noticed my wife

watching a television show

on the murder porn channel

about a back-alley abortionist

I was shocked

I’d always thought that landscaping

was the perfect business model

with quick startup and

extremely low overhead

however

I was mistaken

a lawnmower costs

a hell of a lot more than a

clothes hanger