RACHEL INEZ LANE

It’s Valentine’s Day and My Russian Phone Sex Operator Roommate is Crying

I close the door to my room and hear her
half-heartedly moan into the phone
I am    sniff    so    sniff    wet    sniff     right    now.

Tonight, everyone
is thinking about someone—
even in Koreatown.

Through the whole building, someone
plays Moon River.
Down the hall, the drug dealer plays
spin the gun, alone with his bottle.

The old Korean woman sings dreamaker
you heartbreaker
Takes a long drag
from her Black & Mild, and assembles the right herbs
to make tea
or the lonesome heart.

The transvestite wails
to the music and puts on lipstick for one,
while her plump cat, Snowball,
pisses in her pumps.

The lady, who I am pretty sure, is a hooker,
shuts her leopard skin drapes, turns off
the red light, and rocks gently
like a melancholy bird,
on her sex swing, sighing
to purple toe nails.

And I’m thinking about how he would draw
our lips on his fingertips,
me then him.
He’d make us kiss till the ink smeared.