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Millay-Lorca-Kerouac,” I announce.

Driving to Flint we play Fuck-Marry-Kill.


Edna?” you doubt. “Look at this ass. I bounce

when I strut” — I show off my tight Goodwill


britches, crotch frayed — “and when I’m on all fours.”

I love your truck with its [Off-road Princess]


[NDN Grrlz, please] and [My Pussy Roars]

decals. “Edna loved queer boys. She’d hit this.”


Federico?” “Love my bambino.” “Jack?” “Hate

Jack; the white crayon of art.” “A huge sack


of limp cocks?” “Yes, literature’s eight dollar

haircut.” You laughed. I like your laugh. Irate


raving aside, you’re a blessing: laid-back,

hep, steps beyond she and he, his and her.