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Born SacrificeTo Wayne H.W Wolfson's previous piece


I was hungry and needed a shave, which suited me just fine.

I spent the day with a women from Corsica, who smelled slightly of onions. She loved the pigeons, who walked right under foot looking for bread.

When we parted I wrote down my phone number on the corner of a flyer I had ripped off the wall. Knitted brow and itchy hands, I thought “What’s the point?”

I had money. The problem is I was so used to not having it, I couldn’t enjoy it. All I could think about was when it would be gone.

Bishop was standing on the corner skimming a paper as his shadow paced back and forth. He wanted to take me to the club. They knew him there and it would be a show.

Bishop took me to the club. Everyone looked like a professional wrestler or prostitute. We sat with our backs to the wall. Flirting lights blinking away.

Everyone was throbbing, hot and scared.

“Show me where the bathroom is.”

It was down several flights of stairs, painted black and creaking with every step. The walls were a collage of half- remembered dirty poems, phone numbers and wadded up pieces of toilet paper.

We checked that no one else was around. I put some pills in my hand, made a fist and punched the wall several times. Leaning over the sink we snorted up the rough pill powder. As we went to leave I looked in the cracked mirror and blew myself a kiss.

We got some drinks and sat back down. Now that the place was buried beneath several thin layers of murky thought, it wasn’t too bad.

Some of Bishop’s friends making the rounds came over to say “Hi.” Time was unraveled and left in the coat room.

A friend of a friend had been sitting next to me. Whenever we made eye contact I’d slowly shake my head “Yes.”

Bishop got up. Nancy sat next to me. She pointed to my right.

“For God’s sake, buy the kid a drink. Don’t make him sit there all night chewing ice.”

Life has made me tough, time has made me cruel. I had just been watching the way his eyes would go from my cup to my eyes. I liked Nancy, nice of her to notice.

The night was coming to an end. I had gotten exactly what I had been looking for. Nothing.

Bishop dropped me off. As I fumbled for my keys I thought of Nancy. Something about her reminded me of Japan. I had never been. The silhouette of hills seen clearly late at night.

When death comes home late, he takes his shoes off to sneak in.

She was asleep, but as soon as the bed creaked from my climbing in she’d jump up saying she ‘couldn’t sleep until I was home.’

I had met her at some bar. It’s gone now. Just another empty space with soaped up windows.

Did it hurt...when my eyes devoured you?

This never worried me and yet I always held my breath when walking past the slaughter house.

Our second date. She had been living with her sister. I came by late at night. Throwing chestnuts at her window until she came down. We stayed up all night dipping day old bread in brandy and talking.

I will stay around until I know that I haunt you. Then I can leave.

I climb into bed and she curls herself around me. I hear a rumbling. Its 5 a.m, I look out the window and wonder who’s on the first train.

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