vampire in the city of lost

once there were these two girls

who were really bored

and they put on their shortest skirts

and highest heels

the ones that made their toes bleed

and they applied perfume to all their pulse points

and they went out into the shiny city

where they met this tall vampire with a shaved head

and a body tattooed with the stories of the centuries

and the face of a matinee idol

please please drink our blood they begged

tossing their hair away from their long swan necks

please make us into the immortal dead

and the vampire said

oh no oh no you silly girls

that is not really what you want

it might look fun but actually it kind of sucks

but we are bored, said the girls

we want to wear the fashions of the future

we want to have countless lovers

and most of all we want to stay young and beautiful

forever

but the vampire gave the girls a lecture

about global warming

and the unfathomable hours of the walking dead

if you think you’re bored now! he said

he bought them kir royales and kissed them chastely

on the lips

so that their mouths went numb and tingly

for a moment

and then he left

the girls hobbled home on their bleeding feet

and they thought about that handsome vampire

sitting up in a tree

watching the deserts flame around him

or sailing on a melting ice floe

while the polar bears died

and the girls were glad to be alive

and they were glad they would eventually die

and after that they always turned off

all the lightbulbs in the house

when they went to bed

hoping they were helping the planet

and, secretly cloaked in darkness,

that the vampire would come back

l.a. bacchantes

yxta and francesca decided to start a clique

for frail but surprisingly strong fairies who had lost

their way above ground

for burned mermaids and sick vampire girls

for wild wolfish women with sharp teeth and leaves

in their hair

for women who had been raped

and women who had never been touched

for women who had been devoured limbs eaten

and women who had sucked the blood

of their passive mates

for ladies who had at one time or another considered

themselves hideous monsters

and who had at other times blinded their lovers

with goddess glory

for smart hungry sad creatures who disguised

themselves as women

and wept in secret because they did not look

like supermodels

for loud lascivious funny femmes fatales

who wanted to eat flowers and whipped cream

and dance on the tables

smash things and wear pieces of the chandelier

for jewelry

fuck satyrs and lick dark chocolate off

each other’s bodies

be worshipped online and flirted with

at parties and glimpsed

in the pages of vanity fair in an article entitled

“l.a. bacchantes”

but mostly just needed each other

yxta and francesca had always desired world peace

and profound romance

but this clique wish seemed somewhat selfish maybe

superficial and greedy

they did not yet know how significant it was

no different really from the peace and love

they had been born wanting

and perhaps would change not only themselves but

the world

people’s park (escape to the north)

stay away, they warned her

she watched from a distance as those others

crossed the threshold

a giant swaddled as a mummy

a dreadlocked satyr mumbling

curses to the blossoming trees and garbage

a fortune-teller who sheltered

a whole family of fairies

under her skirt

a witch with a young woman’s body

and the face of dried apple

rice grain teeth like the dolls the girl used to make

with her mother

some days she yearned to leave the icy marble halls

where no one knew her name

and join them

leave the plates of greasy food

that congealed their fats at her abdomen

leave the cruelly beautiful blond boys and girls

in their polo shirts and top-siders

drinking kegs and fucking and ripping

fancy paper off the walls

of their grecian mansions

it would be better to sleep in mud

eat roots and flowers

discarded crusts and the coffee

the vendors left out for her

after all, who had that giant been before?

lurching down the street as if his feet

were burned stumps

he reminded her of the injured dragon

in the dream last night

afraid until she gave him water and kissed his lips

that did not scald her

she bargained with them i will stop eating i will

sleep in the dirt

sleep out all night on the cold marble steps

i will write poetry about you revealing

your true selves

but they would not let her in

she returned to a city they never even dreamed of

where the homeless lived in cardboard shacks

and had forgotten they were ever

something else

like pretty

what would it be like if i thought i was pretty

what would it be like if i carried

that knowledge around

like i do the knowledge that i am a writer

pretty like peonies pretty like satin pretty

like the child i was

would i speak to you differently

would i be healthier less stressed

less worried

would i buy more shoes or fewer

would i be more or less afraid

of death would i find something else

to hate about myself

would i get this jealous

when your eyes aren’t touching me

in this city of movie star beauties

would i be able to write such raw

and seductive words

would you have fallen in love with me sooner

would i have frightened you away

before you had the chance?

my love

my love is undisciplined

unruly

tangled

she is always hungry

my love wants sweet and savory

baklava and stuffed grape leaves

mango smoothies and avocado sushi

carrot cake and butternut soup

my love does contact dance with strangers

and sweats between her legs

she discusses auschwitz with men in galleries

and thinks she was once anne frank

my love is clairvoyant

she can read past lives the way she reads books—

haphazard, invasive and devouring

my love sometimes wishes she were a lesbian

but she is unrelentingly heterosexual

my love loves babies

pink cake boxes

penises

sheer sequin covered tunics

shoes

(currently she is on a dogged internet search

for pink satin platforms)

my love’s nickname is l.a.

she is extravagant

guileless

with no knowledge of spells or witchcraft

if my love had her own body

she would look more like angelina jolie

than like me

i can’t blame