Short Story

lying on a mattress without box-springs,
on the floor of an apartment.

how she was when a wave was crossing
the street near or through her. And about
her on a heap of undulating trash, halfway up
skyscrapers with her vulva opening.

An ocean of trash, tossing, heaving, a world
of candy bar wrappers. He plugged the lamp
nearby into the outlet at the head of the mattress:
he wanted to look around at the room
to make sure he still noticed how it was,

while he thought about her opening up wetly
on a mountain full of trash. I need a town,
he thought, where the candy bars don't outnumber
the shopping carts.