They often walk through the door of the butcher shop.
Women who eat off the fat of their husband’s presence
With hair so straightened they look like porn starlets.
“She brought upon me so much heaviness,
With the affright that from her aspect came,”
I hear a voice echo from a soulless cave
As I trim some fat off a ribeye steak.
Around me lie dissected and disassociated carcasses.
Gray fish guts and opaque trims of gristle and fat fill the trash.
Liquid drips from a hanging eviscerated pig.
The blood on the sharp knives reminding me of the ochre shades of hell.
They walk to the counter with faces of flat sincerity
Asking Ernesto or Bart or Danny,
“Is the salmon sushi grade today?”
When I hear that I think that what they need is a righteous loving fuck.
The ones that they don’t even know exist.
I’ll take my 10 now,
Go out and sit on a milk crate near the piss scented corner of the parking lot,
And make more plans on how to keep my desperation invisible