By Brandi Wells
He won’t let me touch him. On the back
of his leg there is a tattoo of a geisha’s
head cut off, blood spilling from the base
of her neck, there to remind him. I rest
my head on his knee. The girl he trusted
that cheated on him. Calypso. He runs
his finger along one of my eyebrows. It
feels rough. I tell him I cheated once.
Kissed the wrong guy. He pulls his
earring out and rubs it against the skin
below his nostrils. He wears a solid
black shirt and red striped boxers.
There’s a wet stain to the left of his
crotch. The button on his boxers is
undone. He smells my hair. Drinks a
twelve pack of Newcastle. Leaves the
empty bottles on the counter tops. Beer
caps on the kitchen floor.