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We sat treading waves in the ocean as the wedding guests butterflied in. The couple were mutual friends of ours; my fishtail brushed up on your fins. You sized up my molluscan seashells; I sang you the shanty from Jaws; you lit up some seaweed as the best man read, “I should have been a pair of ragged claws.” We laughed at the seriousness of Eliot. We drank pirate rum from a flask. It took you all night to tell me that it was me whom you’d wanted to ask to dance the hot wet night away under the sailor moon. And we danced the hot wet night away, and the dream drained away too soon.
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Yes, dear, the guitar’s been drinking, and talking you up at the bar— wondering what you’ve been thinking, wherever the hell that you are. Lanneau says that he’d fuck you, if he hadn’t just had a kid, and Andrew tells me he loves you, and I’ll never tell you I did.
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3. |
everybody says
01:26
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Everybody’s messaging me. I can’t read the words they’re saying, and it’s fucking up my mind. Everybody says, “It’s easy.” I don’t know the game they’re playing, and I’m leaving me behind.
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4. |
flash fiction
01:03
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Gather all your balls and drop them in my court, bounce them up my skort, serve them one inch short of reach. Sweep up all your feelings and pack them in a box. Beg me to unlock it once a month. Edit all your flash fiction and toss me in the trash, nothing wrong with that, only being practical. Keep keeping it ephemeral so nothing ever lasts. Use me when you think you need a touch (of an erotic vibe). Use me when you think you need a touch.
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5. |
danielle
01:15
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Danielle asks to get Bloody Marys when I start to do something scary, like call you on the phone to see if you’re home. Danielle makes a wisecrack about you when I say I can’t live without you, and she saves me every time, she clears up my mind.
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I don’t want anything from you. I’ll have my coke and snort it too. You’re my lover, but I don’t know what that means. Do you know what that means? I’ll fuck you ’til the break of dawn, unlock the door while you buy condoms. You’re my summer fling, but I don’t know what to sing. Do you want anything?
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If you were in the audience when I sang my songs, maybe they’d be longer, maybe they’d have stronger kinds of subject matter; if you were at the kitchen table when I fried my eggs, maybe I’d be healthier, have lither legs (because I’d use less butter)— but that’s not my real-life scenario; I sing for strangers, scramble to the radio; was I supposed to get some memo years ago: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio”?
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8. |
metti una sera a cena
01:06
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I got sick, and I tried to attend your big night, but I'm hacking up a lung. Yes, bad luck, but I tried to get to your big time, but I'm sneezing up this song. I played "Metti Una Sera A Cena," and came, lying on my roommate's bed, and then I called your name. Yes, I'm sick, but I tried to get there by your side-- but I always time things wrong.
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9. |
the BQE (FU)
01:27
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I blue-balled you for the first time, which was hard for me to justify, ‘cause I can’t make out if you want me easy or want me hard-to-get, but I forgot my ID in my apartment, and when we went to the bar I got carded, so I left you under the BQE with a beer and cigarette, and I regret everything I’ve done (save you, sir— you’re the best one), but when I endeavor to tell you so, I forget my alphabet (A, B, C, D, E, F, U?).
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10. |
onlyfans
01:13
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I didn't get the Guggenheim gig— I got sick on beer and cigarettes, and I’m a stupid slut with no mind for art— just a thirsty heart that lives to pound. I didn’t get your first-place pick; I got thirteen movies of your dick, and I’m the best account on OnlyFans, for when your best girl goes out of town.
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Katy the Kyng New York
Katy the Kyng is a composer and guitarist.
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