ghoti

it was only yesterday
i had looked around
my neighborhood
for a prospective father

one
that might be
slurping away at the union pub
or dragging
an aged dog
across the street
with its back arched
and lumps of turds
dropping
softly
to the cement

i turned away
thinking, “christ
are these my options?”

until the sweet
chinese boy
from across the street
who delivers my sunday paper
rode his bike
over each shit
and i started to imagine

the beauty
of his clumsiness
and the school uniform
that hung off his shoulders

i called him over
from across the road
waved a fiver
and explained i needed him
to help me
create the poetic lines
i’d been having trouble with
for the past seven months

“i’ve got to get home,” he said
picking at the black rubber handle grips

i’d started fantasizing
about the few black hairs
that had crawled
through his chin
and upper lip
that left a dark shadow
or an appearance of dirt
i wanted to lick clean

“look” i said, “i’ve got this dilemma
and if you can give me
the prosaic tone
i’m looking for
i’ll double this.”

i waved a pink note

“and give you a tenner.”

seven and a half minutes later
i watched him
sit back
on my cream couch
his arm hung loosely
by his side

i was thinking of ways
to lick away
the darkness
around his mouth

“you want anything to drink?”

i watched him squirm
sideways on the sofa

“don’t move,” i said

and he stopped moving

i feel like i beginning to love him
like my gold fish
i watch
swim
around
waiting
nightly
for me to feed flakes of food to

while i tap
tap
tap on the glass