Prize Fightersby Tom Waters |
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i used to take photographs of the girls I wanted so desperately to sleep with—
there are albums filled with their quizzical wonder impromptu smiles forlorn profiles in dim lit bars as the flash took them by surprise.
these were shortly followed by landscape scenarios with the muse in question somewhere in the foreground taken with the camera and the man behind it.
then bedroom motifs ruffled hair morning breath and no makeup dark sunrises where sex hid in dawn shadows in black & white—
turn the page and they are gone not a trace no hint as to what transpired the blossoming subject vanished; replaced by a new lass a new love as long as the 35 mm rolls would abide.
no sign of a fight nor glimpse of hurt feelings drunken fumblings discovered cheating just rolling pastures, crisp monochrome profiles & the sweeping ephemera of neon bar signs, snowscapes, bedposts, apartments in disarray shortly followed by their replacement.
i ran out of albums undeveloped rolls of film sat unexposed and neglected in glove compartments camera suitcases filled with film paraphenalia catch-all desk drawers with miscellaneous forgotten keepsakes they leer back at me in so many years the grins and captured laughs curtsies and wise-assed smiles saying ‘fuck you, tom, look what you did to me’
i stopped taking pictures of women i’m attracted to because pieces of me wound up on the film too. |
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Temptingby Steven Helmicki |
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Tempting So there can be Intimacy in thought Our minds close But our wills unknown What impulses may Divulge about beliefs Relative to various hungers They are intertwined Our addictions unknown Until the hook Sets us down denial Tiring to the surface Our aches will be known Like a fish on its side Vulnerable even to itself. From the author’s book Healing Hands of Women. |