Day One at the All-Inclusive
Carly Alaimo
Dolphins are too good for this world, I think, as I reluctantly, fearfully, kiss one on its domed rubbery mouth while someone snaps a picture.
Dolphins are too good for this world, I think, as I reluctantly, fearfully, kiss one on its domed rubbery mouth while someone snaps a picture.
He looks at me a little like how the alley cats look at the mice behind the house, but I don’t mind.
Walking through the dense forestry of unrefrigerated 24- and 30-packs, Pete was in search of something that would stand out from the rest.
The great neon calamity of his own life exhausts him.
The currency of self-loathing is everything you’ve ever said.
Did you know emus have two sets of eyelids? One for blinking, one for dust.
Everything’s fuzzing in every direction, the flowers and the water and the stars, and the pizza is impossibly good.
Everything would be fine, sort of, if she could close this deal.
There is a strength of purpose, I suppose, a fortitude and integrity, in simply admitting yourself to be a malevolent presence skulking the dingy alleyways of your own life.
He produces a handgun from under the seat, displays it, points it up toward the sunroof.
Right away we shared amphetamines. He fed them to me to keep me awake.
We were children once, but we aren’t anymore. At least, that’s what Magda says.
I tell him that next year I may hang myself—that’s the funny thing about life—you never know what it’s going to throw at you.
I like to hang out with models. Models, like Chip in Rent Boy, understand the “strange desires of men.” They live a life of the body.
S is for sponsor who you really should call.
and by the way, I wear jeans too, and I’ll fuck that white girl, absolutely, from the commercial, the camera trails her on the beach, she’s smiling, now she’s hiding behind her hands . . .
They put her flyer on their mailboxes and look at me like she’s dead.
Is this new relationship self-sabotage in disguise, or is it the cure?
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