Although he wasn’t sure when exactly it had happened, sometime between his first routine cleaning and the last of his two porcelain crowns Nils Templeton had fallen in love with his dental hygienist. Her name was Echo, and she had eyes that matched the lavender exam gloves she used to tenderly probe the inside of his bacteria-laden mouth.
At the place where you enter the bus you light your butts with cardboard matches and smoke until the bus pulls up with a hiss. There are no people, just faceless bodies moving in a construct.
And though her belly and thighs were those of a beast, she was more beautiful now than ever. Dark hair fell round breasts from a dream, white skin glowed, her eyes were wet with hate.
Though never true friends,
old and new souls, they
respect each other. Unless
one is still angry
at the judgment the other
passed eons ago—
A few weeks back, I bought myself a prosthetic penis just to see what it was like to have one. I didn’t have a plan at first—I wouldn’t use it on myself, you know, like that, even if the thing hadn’t come with a lengthy safety disclaimer written in eight languages with an inflammatory illustration […]
They ordered the sushi appetizer and between the silences one or the other would say something that didn’t say anything and the other would reply in kind.