I spent the unforgiving summer with many men. Often I wondered if they offered more to me, or I to them. They mostly helped me pass the time, and I was young, smooth and lively. Some paid me, I wish I had asked more for money.
I know I offered something other than youth. When laying in damp sheets I often ask, “What is one sexual fantasy you have?” And men, I often picture them gifted with beast desires, that cannot be spoken with civilised mouths. And with the same mouth perched another cigarette filter, smouldering. They want to tie me up, they want their sisters, want to rape someone that isn’t truly innocent, the want to breed little dogs, and at times they are soft. But wilderness in summer are harsh, I have nothing to offer, but to hold them by their beer gut, that ridge on their back and said, we can do that. Rocking into my young body which clings by little arms and little legs, I am unsure if they undid me, or was it me to them. Certain kind of honesty unfolds as they lay half in clarity, weekends twitches into months as they candidly manifest on the other side of the couch, that they just are. Are out of shape. Are clueless. Are young and alone. Are old and alone. Are clueless about technology or art, or tenderness or beauty.
I weren’t soft. I like the sound of that. We fall back onto each other, and I look up at each of them with the same adoring eyes that cocksuckers have, sometimes teary, but I wasn’t soft. At the seams where men would break, we glance like a burnt cactus beside our feet, and just agree that I wouldn’t say anything if you do not. Some sunless evenings in bondage, when I turn away from you breathing onto my neck, we know you can’t handle me being truly soft, nor I can to yours.
Kindness. If only we had more kindness outside of bed.
The amount of men who needs a hug. You wouldn’t imagine. Not just some hug, but to embrace their totality of them. I see them, and cannot afford to hug each one I come across. The summer was relentless after all.
And in the end there was nothing to gain, and nothing to lose. I came into the embrace of one, after another. And how timeless sexuality becomes, you never know where the body of one ends and the other begins, but there in a cheap hourly hotels, underly decorated condo, or yet another love hotel after hotel, through the door, and window side, and behind some silhouette, and neon white lights that turn late night into timeless vacuums, and at last serene monochrome hours, we are just humans, two doughs of flesh manifesting our realities that we know.
Autumn fell into place and the sun was kinder. I still wasn’t sure what the men gained from me, and I have nothing to offer. But I saw them, and wished they couldn’t see me in the summertime, but yet still remembered something. Somehow.
It’s 2:17am. I had dreamt of being a prostitute, endless times. The soul of a whore is something, I thought I had it, two years ago and just this afternoon in the bathtub. I don’t know where it went tonight.
Steno Notes 