I glued two devil horns to the roof of my car. Chivalry is dead. I’m not a hot mess; I’m cold and neat. Tears of pleasure, tears of pain, I fear both make me feel the same. Intimacy without touch, sometimes it’s too much. I parked my car two blocks away from heaven. I prefer the company of short women and tall glasses of wine. She laughs in ‘jajas’ instead of ‘hahas.’ I’m renting out the room to breathe for a great price. Part of me wishes that when I beat the drum it beats me back. Somewhere between Hialeah and Hell. The shells I picked out of the sand are now gathering dust on the top shelf of my dresser, above rows and rows of repulsive crocs. I asked God for thunder but he only sent lightning. Loneliness stuck to her like reaching for a spoon and grazing a knife. I don’t want this moment to become a memory. Now I have to yell while I masturbate. The bartender is wet; my martini is dry. The heat brought the women; the heat took off their clothes.

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