Eleven years later she comes to me
and remembers she said "in ten years."
I remember I said we'd never speak,
but two children since I've nothing to fear.
She tells me she has a story to tell,
about the dream I gave her, which she lived:
there was wealth, a poor girl and art to sell,
and a rich man, an artist and a shiv,
and an engine left running at LAX,
and leaving behind a new way to live.
She wears high leather boots and shakes with sex,
and decides that we'll write it as a script.
Will it be all right, she asks, with my wife?
She knows that it's something her boyfriend won't like.
also embedded at The Believer Logger
also embedded at PEN
included in "Webcam Girls Read Sonnets" in Vice