Toilet Vignettes

By Mario Incandenza

i. i asked her to cut off my finger 
standing at the entry way or was it exit 
watching her ride down the east london road perched atop a metallic bike rack 
foreheads touching i mumbled 
we entwined on the couch, Rod of Asclepius 
harmless snake or more cliche; 
serpent imploring to taste the fruit of knowledge 
was the snake satisfied having catalyzed the fall 
was eve made better 
gaze demanding she cut his finger 
save him from playlists encumbered by love songs 
mind consumed by alternative hypotheses 
naive expectations of a future apart 
her vacant stare past fabric stores 
creaky bike chirping flanked by chicken shops 
she cant or she wont 

ii. she did that stupid thing 
ive seen it in the movies 
while i helped her with her spreadsheet 
of all things 
she resting her body against mine 
as a lover 
leg delicately weighing non-attached 
is it her nakedness that consumes me? 
my romanticized crywank. 
my friend, ascribed meaning where there was none.
 im sad to know (youre leaving). and leaving me with the lovecraftian horrors. 
and our adventures on bikes threatening to fall apart. 
rattling down dirt paths and cobblestones. 
already i commemorate these in marble monoliths to future gods.
we pause to think on time at south bank gallery. 
surrounded by wellcome and neon paint. 
love or in love; chaos limerence; chaos vagina 
crowds out my decision to love. reveals youth. 
which is why i cannot love.
 only be in love

This piece is from The Feminist Toilet #1. To go back and read more, click here.

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