Poisoned Apples (8 page)

A
t the Once Upon a Time Shop,

they make me check my basket,

but who cares. I have plenty of room

under my cape, a six-pack wedged against

the elastic of my gingham bikini briefs.

I buy a Get Well card for Granny,

smiling sweetly at the clerk who thinks

he's being cute when he hands me

the bag and says, “All the better to

receipt you with, my dear!”

Wolfie's waiting at our usual spot

with cigarettes. I pull out the goodies,

and the drunker we get, the more I want to

dig my nails into his pelt like

I'm going to scratch his belly, but not stop

there.

“Why, Wolfie, what a big . . .”

If that woodsman shows up now,

I will totally kick his ass.

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Finders, Keepers

I
t's not a glove left on the subway,

keys gone AWOL under the couch.

No billboard clamors,
Has anyone seen

this missing virginity?

There has to be a better way

to say it.

Finding your sexuality?

Not so much.

Becoming a woman?

Next!

Keeping

your sense of humor?

Your dignity?

Your legs from shaking,

your teeth from chattering,

your bracelet from snagging in his hair?

Keeping your head

on his chest afterward and knowing

that crazy drum solo is playing

just for you.

Yeah.

That was definitely my favorite part.

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Gingerbread

I
knew I had to get out of there

before the icing cracked and they discovered

that I'm burnt around the edges,

doughy in the center,

that what they thought was sugar

is salt.

If I was a good girl,

if I could satisfy their cravings,

if every dream in my misshapen head

didn't bite, I might have stayed at the table.

Wouldn't you run, too,

from such voracious love?

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What She Heard the Waitress Say

H
i, my name is Stacy! Our soup of the day is souper

yummy, ha-ha! It's beercheesebeanbroccolibacon.

We have two specials tonight—the crab cakes

with hollandaise, which are, like,
amazing
, and the buttermilk

chicken-fried steak, which is the best thing Chef Brandon

has ever made. I could eat it for every meal, but that's me,

I'm naturally skinny and cute and not grossing out everyone

in the dining room! Should I see if Dwayne from the stockroom

will be around later to lift you out of that booth with a forklift?

I'll give you a minute to decide!

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Going Under

N
o lifeguard on duty, and she is not at all safe

on her towel, watching the other girls bodysurf.

Her friends have no clue about the tentacles churning

close to the surface, eager to pull her under

if she so much as dips in a toe.

Okay,

one

toe.

All of a sudden she's up to her ankles

in wrappers, up to her shins, her waist, her thin

bikini strings, up to no good as the tide turns

away, disgusted, and wave after greasy wave

crashes past her salt-blistered lips.

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Life Among the Swans