Three Imaginary Men

A ride on the 1 train
to “No Friends” operetta,
1 day after a ride on the A train
filled with naked imaginary men…
on the way home from the village
where extraordinary naked men used to die.

This writing calms me after distressing Anna voicemail;
a horrible miscommunication which I must correct.

Breathe. 18 stops to relax. I can message her when I arrive.

Now, begin again. Tell me about the men.

There were several fully clothed
but naked men
on the subway yesterday.

A sturdy father,
a seemingly kindly grandpa man
and a 20 something –
all of them with beautiful, dark skin.

As a game
to escape the crowded
heated madness,
I undressed them all.

I sized them up
and I devoured them,
before spitting them all out
when studly sturdy father man
vividly became a father again.

Though just after that happened
he winked at me,
subtly rubbed his crotch
and sent me another sidelong glance;
an invitation to continue.

Except that more than 24 hours later,
17 stops have flown by
and I must away to my partner and friends,
leaving my imaginary men behind
as I immerse myself
in the imaginations of others.

Written by Jason Wright
June 13, 2018

Player

I haven’t heard
this music in ages,

Danced San Francisco
with Breakfast in Vegas,

Down underground
& you only live twice,

On New York play list
my life has been spliced.

Over the ground
it’s westward I’m stabbing,

Pimping my sneakers
which aren’t quite worth having,

Ditching the songs
in hope of return,

Lighting my way
with dead stars that burn.

Written by Jason Wright
July 31, 2017

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