One joint down and a half and half whiskey.
I was in turbulence inside a public toilet.
The creativity, the imagination of people on the walls of these toilets are best kind of porn you will ever get.
I was looking at these filthy sketches and then; there I got her phone number.
The exact words were, ‘ ,500 bucks for one hour, full satisfaction.’
I have always been an asshole when it comes to giving lights to women.
I took the number and called immediately,
but it was unanswered…
I was again lost in the crowd with a dumped ass and with a phone number of a potential sex worker.

The night came. It’s funny how just the position of a star can change the viciousness of humanity…
The cold, the unwanted, the underground lords of immense mortality all get over their sleep.
I was in my place sitting and doing nothing…no writing…no words… getting drunk…
I call these the infertile liquors.
The return call came…the same number,
her voice trembled like false winds…
I asked her name; she said nothing,
I asked her profession; she said nothing,
I asked her age; she remained silent like a baked lotus.
I was about to get over it…but then she said just one sentence…
‘ I have nothing, except the fear of you.’
The voice disappeared…the distance rushed in…and there I was shivering in the numbness of a burned log.
I unzipped my trouser and started cursing the phallic flesh underneath…
‘ Look motherfucker what you have done to me…you have made a reptile out of a sloppy mammal.’
I cursed…I cursed…I cursed…
The night went with the baritone of Dylan humming ‘the times they are a-changin.’

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Photograph: Kelly Rocha