Beyon(d)ce

I am back two years
Marco, Oakland, cocaine. He was the hottest man in the club, he was also the bassist in the band that was on stage.
Evidently when you don't give a shit people notice. The set ended, he was at my elbow, his Peruvian drawl slipped into my mind, you want to party?
Present graveyards are quiet places. The crows are full of themselves, the jays are too; I hear a bottle drop. The wind is gentle and warm. The sun-dappled grass is thin, overgrown. Propped on my elbows, jean shorts cuffed, ankle boots kicking into the air I am resplendent in this moment.
I worry about magic. The thought that it is possible for someone to use it against me crosses my mind. There is always a chance that the veiled threat: be careful when you leave personal belongings with a witch... they might not be so understanding. Is more open then closed.
He had secrets. I found a pair of panties in the bottom drawer of his dresser. I wasn't snooping, I was putting his laundry away. They were tied with a cord or ribbon, it was voodoo. This didn't deter me any more than the fact that his ex was filing a restraining order against him.
I was going to be the one who showed him the potential of love.
Now single I am steadily dating myself, my work, my books. I know more than I should about the poison of shame. It is kerosene, I am an ember.
Again Marco
His voice is velvet, I am a python and he pulls rapture from my stone heart. Later, he uses me silently taking his pleasure from my body. I, am transported in the moments of violence, extract the sin, distill the feeling of wanting and transpose all of that to Beyonce.
Again Marco one year later
I find him again
He is thin
We do drugs
I leave
All of my questions answered
Time and perspective