by Stephanie Wytovich

I picked you from the phone book
I liked the way your name sounded
It rolled off my lips
Because it sounded exotic

People stared at me on the bus
I guess they frown
When you masturbate in public
But I couldn’t get your name
Out of my head
So I got off the bus
And finished on the sidewalk
Near the lamppost in front of your house

I sat on your doorstep
But didn’t ring your doorbell
I wanted to see if you could feel me there
Waiting to see you
To see the face that fits the name
But you never came out
So I took out my knife
And carved my name
On one of your cement steps
Just in case my name
Had the same effect on you


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2 Responses to Signature

  1. Holy shit, mang. This is incredible.

  2. your demeanor in this, is so wonderfully, Refreshingly, dry/hardened/
    and “unplugged”. I like the ways your words WORK!

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