The Opiate Summer 2019, Vol. 18 “I have always wanted a swimming pool, and never

YourThe literary dose.Opiate had one.”

-Joan Didion, The White Album

© The Opiate 2019 Cover art: “Bathing Beauties at Sandbanks” by David Davis, taken at the Poole Museum in Britain, May 2019 This magazine, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission. ISSN 2381-859X 3. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18

Editor-in-Chief Alan Elyshevitz, “I Feel Threatened” 74 Genna Rivieccio Janna Grace, “Why Do Snapchats Disappear?” 75 Editor-at-Large Malik Crumpler Thomas Wells, “City of Palls” 76 Editorial Advisor Bojana Stojcic, “Woman With Drawers” 77-78 Armando Jaramillo Garcia Syed Zaman, “Between Body and Breath” 79-80 Media/Publicity Operations Anton Bonnici Hunter Boone, “In the Belly of Sentient Beings” 81 Contributing Writers: Adam Hanover, “Toreo” 82 Fiction: Jennifer Stephenson, “Arguments In Relationship” 83 Ewa Mazierska, “Sunset Boulevards, Budapest, AD 2018” 10 Cameron Morse, “KFC Rhapsody” 84 Ashok Rajamani, “Sari Romance” 17 Inès Giudici, “Compulsion to Bury” 85 Joseph V. Pali, “The Horn” 26 Matthew Corey, “Meditation on a Pine” 86 Mary Bunten, “The Way Things Work” 36 Timothy Robbins, “The Line” 87 Leanne Grabel, Brontosaurus, Chapters 32-35 42 Victor Marrero, “Prophecy” & “Disintegration of Stars” 88-89 Poetry: Rufo Quintavalle, “Permutations” 90-94 Donna Dallas, “Sub-Divinity,” “Yeah, But How ‘Bout A Napkin?...” & “Zoning” 69-71 Criticism: Juanita Rey, “In My Realm” 72 Genna Rivieccio, “The Ragdoll Cipher Actress Hasn’t Learned the Lines You’d Like to Hear: Alfred Hayes’ My Face For the World to See” 96 Layla Lenhardt, “Sylvia’s Son” 73 4. 5. dandruff and overweightness that makes her an easy target for the bullying popular girls, Maria and The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Dot. As the familiarly cringeworthy story unfolds, Bunten explores the “contagiousness” of becoming a social pariah, poetically rendered by Vivian, having a test rat in science class that’s part of the group denied their essential nutrients. A rat not in the “control group,” as it were. Vivian asks innocently of her Editor’s Note weak rat, “Want to hold him?” Our narrator replies, “‘He looks sick.’ Vivian laughed. ‘You can’t catch Ah, summer. The time of the proverbial “beach read.” Which is to say “a bodice-ripping paperback.” it.’” But oh, you can. Weakness is always deemed a “disease” that’s catchable if you spend too much Hopefully The Opiate can deliver on that promise, too (for it always takes a spoonful of sugar to get time with someone else who has it. Yet somehow, society has it all backward as those who are ostensibly people to read when it’s hot out, or cold out, for that matter. Basically any temperature or condition at “strong” are the weakest (in character) of all. all warrants difficulty with getting people to read.). For we have much in the way of salacious content, as usual, to keep you, our dear reader, turning the page. And, in the spirit of where the American mind Leanne Grabel’s Brontosaurus is starting to draw to a close with the latest serialized chapters, and I goes in times of warm weather—California (my own mind certainly can’t speak for the Euro one despite have to admit I’m getting a bit verklempt about it as I’m having a difficult time imagining the magazine being a vague expatriate, but I suppose if I were bona fide, it would go to Ibiza rather than California)— without her signature illustrations in it. In chapters 32-35, Grabel details the latest cad in a series of Joan Didion feels like an appropriate choice to set the tone for summer, in addition to our splashy cover. traumas, tellingly called...Bacchus. Incidentally, it’s a scene from the less remarked upon for its warm weather England, still a best kept secret sort of country when it comes to just how seriously they take their leisure with their barrage of “resort With that, we dive into the poetry section with The Opiate alum Donna Dallas (also present in the pages towns.” Poole being just one such option on the southern coast of the island that is very confused about of Vol. 9 and Vol. 14), who makes the subversion of Anne Taintor look comparatively “cute.” Her latest its identity right now. batch of poems, “Sub-Divinity,” “Yeah, But How ‘Bout A Napkin?...” and “Zoning,” prove to be no exception to the rule. This trifecta is complemented by the cheekiness of Juanita Rey’s “In My Realm,” One country that never seems to be, however, is Hungary, where, incidentally, the story that kicks off wherein we then enter a smorgasbord of, let’s call them “options,” as Rey recounts how “most can go the fiction section takes place. Entitled “Sunset Boulevards, Budapest, AD 2018,” Ewa Mazierska (whose their own way without me trying to stop them.” work has also appeared on theopiatemagazine.com, as well as in Vol. 16 with “Family Man”) takes us on a pop music odyssey that blends elements of Sunset Boulevard with Vox Lux as an up and coming Layla Lenhardt’s “Sylvia’s Son” is a powerful and evocative rumination on loss, each line filled with an journalist named Miklos is given the chance to interview the aging Queen of Hungarian Pop known image that arrests and cannot be forgotten. It is followed by a seemingly antithetical piece from Alan as Zsofi. As he is allowed access into her glittering and exclusive world, he instantly knows better than Elyshevitz called “I Feel Threatened.” Yet pairing these two side by side felt like a subconscious choice Vanessa Grigoriadis (who was recently ripped to shreds by Madonna herself for her profile forThe New for me in terms of tying together two salient themes regarding the nature of loss (whether tangible or York Times Magazine called “Madonna at Sixty”) to bite the well-manicured hand that is feeding him not) and the unavoidable resignation that comes with it. In the case of Elyshevitz’s poem, it evinces the potential “poolboy,” so to speak, opportunities. sinking feeling we all seem to be having these days: that things are only going to get worse before (and if) they get better. From Hungary to India, The Opiate is already starting to feel as traveled as the aforementioned Madame X as we set our sights on the sordid and scandalous tale of Leenu (newly married to an older former To that end, Janna Grace’s “Why Do Snapchats Disappear?” delineates a connected sense of mistrust bachelor) and her mother-in-law, Mother Silky. As the duo spends quite a bit of concentrated time and melancholy as our poet lays out the various causes of one’s cavalier ennui through the lens of together in the absence of Mother Silky’s son, Anil, who has gone on a business trip to keep both of them wondering how the building of a bridge could ever be completed (“Is there a moment when you are accustomed to a certain lifestyle, it becomes blatantly obvious that Leenu has more than just “daughterly” hanging/closer to the other side, too committed/to get back to your start?”). And yes, the more I feelings toward her. What’s more, Mother Silky isn’t feeling so...maternal either. The only trouble with examine it, the more I have to say that the poetry section has, by and large, an overwhelming vibe of their forbidden love (or lust?) is what to do when Anil returns. defeat and surrender to it. What Prince would call a sign o’ the times, I reckon. Reaching an apex in Thomas Wells’ “City of Palls” (a phrase I can’t help but automatically associate with New York). As he As we spin the globe toward our next destination, Congo, we also inaugurate the first printed work of epitomizes modern scenes of decay, one can only bristle at the recognizable images of a “moribund city Joseph V. Pali, who dipped his toe into The Opiate waters with a story online called “Quiet Quandary of rot” and a “counterfeit city of lies.” Whether we’re talking about DC or NYC, the accusation currently of the Quill” (which adeptly addresses the plight of any aspiring writer in their struggle to “emulate” applies worldwide. greatness without first realizing they must find their own voice instead of trying to adopt someone else’s). In this one, “The Horn,” we enter into the imperialistic realm of the Belgian search for rubber trees in the The resonantly defiant “Woman With Drawers” from Bojana Stojcic is an unapologetic declaration of Inturi Forest. Edward, a scientist with purer aims to seek out the seemingly mythical creature known as the culpability. Of pleading “guilty” to, as so many of us have, “cold-bloodedly killing the meaning of life.” Okapi, enters into more than he bargained for in his involvement with the brutal mercenaries of the ABIR Whether this has occurred in our daily surrender to Big Brother via the screen or, to that end, “beating Company. With a narrative pacing that keeps you constantly on the edge of your seat, Pali’s depiction ourselves up over every indulgent slip-up” is at the reader’s discretion. of how low humanity can sink is juxtaposed against the beauty of it for an effect that mirrors the very bittersweetness of life. Syed Zaman’s (whose indelible artwork also appears in the poem) “Between Body and Breath” offers a variant rumination on experiencing un certain void within. The kind that so often comes when another This much, too, can be said of Mary Bunten’s “The Way Things Work,” a tale that takes place in that other person is involved, ergo, “You’re a hole in my life—of accumulated impressions...” So yes, somewhere jungle forest, preadolescence. For a new girl to the school, her interest in academics (science in particular) between body and breath, there is definitely the abstraction of others that we create, sentient or not. 6.leads her into a fast friendship with the warm-hearted, but terminally uncool, Vivian. Vivian with her 7. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 And, talking of sentience, what succeeds Zaman’s work is Hunter Boone’s “In the Belly of Sentient Beings” (of which there are so few left on this planet). A redolent journey into the innerworkings not just of a belly that burns with desire (for to be alive is to want constantly) but the human mind itself, where so many “tentacles of regrets” also reside. Then, one day, it all seems to stop just as frenetically as it began (that’s code for death, in case you couldn’t gather).

The “pageantry” of life and all the foolish things we focus on while in it takes on a new metaphor in Adam Hanover’s “Toreo,” rich with the imagery of bullfighting that once so enraptured Ernest Hemingway. But unlike the paintings and literature of the past that have so often glorified “the art” (though not in Alfred Hayes’ My Face For the World to See...back to that in a minute), Hanover is unafraid to shed light on the “details Goya never showed you.” And it makes for quite an impact.

From one form of brutality to another, we venture over to Jennifer Stephenson’s “Arguments In Relationship,” evincing an all too recognizable elucidation of that moment when you and your significant other seem to recognize your dynamic is little better than a car wreck on a racing track and all you want to scream is: “Somebody take the lid off the/fucking dome and let us out.” A somewhat different form of reverse sentimentality finds its way into Cameron Morse’s “KFC Rhapsody,” a poem that’s a tongue-in- cheek “ode to the city that stole my years.” I’m positive that for most people, that city tends to be either New York or Los Angeles (or, if you’re extra into the sensation of cutting, both).

Backpedaling to the “relationship corpse” theme, we have Inès Giudici’s “Compulsion to Bury,” in which the loss of a loved one to a breakup is poignantly set against the death of our narrator’s potted plant. Talking of plants, Matthew Corey’s “Meditation on a Pine” is a sparse yet gut-punching rumination on FICTION the uncomplicated joys of a pine’s existence, which so very clearly makes this whole “human thing” seem to pale in comparison.

The always irreverent Timothy Robbins returns to our pages with “The Line,” a sort of reflection on that giddy feeling one gets when an unexpectedly poetic turn of phrase exits from the confines of the subconscious...even when one is, say, being entered. On a more serious note, Victor Marrero’s “Prophecy” and “Disintegration of Stars” are a fitting pair for the dystopian moment, with the first set in the milieu of a prison and the second, well, ultimately, on a tarmac.

Wrapping up the poetry arena of the issue is Rufo Quintavalle’s “Permutations,” a unique and distinct series that follows the pattern of five vowels in order (a, e, i, o, u) and without repetition. Which brings us, at last, to the bookend, a criticism on the aforementioned Hayes novella, My Face For the World to See. A quintessentially ruthless account of what Hollywood mutates its once fresh off the boat aspirants into, the curdling tale is told from the perspective of a relatively successful screenwriter from New York who happens into a not so successful actress’ life by literally saving it. Yet, unlike go-to Hollywood noirs such as Sunset Boulevard or In A Lonely Place, there is an even darker pall to the tone of Hayes’ narrative, which reaches an inevitable apex of moral flexibility that still somehow leaves its reader in shock.

So there you go. The Opiate’s summer issue, in a nutshell. And yes, like Joan D., I have always wanted a swimming pool, and never had one. And as a fucking fellow California girl, to boot. How is one supposed to read Nietzsche poolside in the style of Paul Rudd as Josh in Clueless in such a condition?

Genna Rivieccio Paris, France - July 23, 2019 8. 9. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Sunset Boulevards, Budapest, AD 2018 - Ewa Mazierska

certain cheesiness about her private was a wood or even a forest, before stucco at the top, depicting swans and Sunset Boulevards, Budapest, life. According to gossip, in the it was bought up by some property peacocks. All together it looked like a 1980s she was a lover of the minister developer in the 1990s. As it was late nineteenth-century mansion, rather of culture and after communism October, the days were short and the than a nouveau riche palace from AD 2018 collapsed, married the richest sun was about to set. The wood was the 1990s. When he commented on Hungarian, whom she quietly and full of red, brown and yellow leaves, this, Zsofi smiled and said: “In fact, Ewa Mazierska profitably divorced after several falling on juicy, green moss. The part it is a late nineteenth century house. years. Thanks to her professional of the sky which contained the sun When we bought it, there were only and private successes, she was the showed all shades between yellow two houses here, both of the same wealthiest female star in Hungary, and purple and the sky farther away age, but within a decade we became with properties scattered all over was deep blue, more like sea than sky. surrounded by new houses. My ex- Europe. She was thus like a domestic It appeared that all the colours of the husband didn’t like them, but I didn’t version of Zsa Zsa Gabor, but world chose this place for their rallying mind. I was always on good terms probably with more real talent and call. Miklos didn’t regard himself with my neighbours.” less wit. Miklos still remembered his as particularly sensitive to nature, There was a large salon piece about Zsa Zsa Gabor which he but he had to admit that the image downstairs, and one of its walls was had to pen when she died, trying to alone was worth making the trip. In decorated with platinum records and dissect her famous quotes: “I never addition, there was a thick, mossy, awards Zsofi received at international hated a man enough to give him mushroomy, almost psychedelic music festivals from all over the his diamonds back” and “I always smell. He had to resist the temptation world. It was not surprising there said marriage should be a fifty-fifty to fall face down to the ground and were so many given that during the proposition. He should be at least forget about his assignment, but of communist period she was described fifty years old, and have at least fifty- course he overcame it; he was not an as “the country’s hottest export.” million dollars.” Maybe in private idiot, after all. “To be honest, I don’t like Zsofi was also saying stuff like that, He expected Zsofi to live the stuff here,” she said, pointing to but on stage she projected herself as behind a gate with CCTV cameras, this “wall of success.” romantic and sincere, as evidenced have an intercom and barking dogs. “This was my ex-husband’s by her wide eyes and shy smile. But there was only an ordinary, old- idea and it stayed like that, as I’m too Obviously a singer is different from fashioned doorbell which Miklos lazy to change it. I probably would an actress or a professional socialite, pressed, wondering whether she if I found a young painter whose especially in a communist country, would open the gate herself or work charmed me, but it is difficult to boss claimed that soon there would be a long queue of as Hungary was when she was in send an old butler to do it. She did charm me these days.” iklos had been interviewing people for journalists wanting to publish “exclusive” interviews her prime. She must have known it, it herself. She wore a white fluffy Zsofi didn’t leave Miklos in money forM five years now and he’d become fed up with with her. They needed to catch her before she ran out otherwise she wouldn’t have been so jumper and red trousers, which the salon, but took him to a small it. His interviewees made him feel insignificant and his of “exclusive stories” or, worse, published them herself. successful. Would he be able to make brought to Miklos’ mind something room adjoining the kitchen, asking life transient, because he usually captured them when After all, the strategy of their magazine was to be trail- her reveal the secrets of her successes from a fairy tale: Red Riding Hood if he’d had dinner. He hadn’t, so he they were only passing through Budapest. There was a blazers, not followers or imitators. and her resilience? or Santa Claus. Her demeanour was accepted her offer to eat together. tacit understanding that he was just an item on their Miklos was given Zsofi’s telephone number It took Miklos well over an also fairy tale-like; there was a softness There was goulash soup, apple pie conveyor belt and they would forget him as soon as they with a warning that it might take him some time to get hour to get to Zsofi’s house, because and gentleness about her movements, and wine and all the while they were said “goodbye” to each other. As if to balance their atti- through to her, as she was a bit capricious and reclusive. she lived in a “millionaires’ village,” which intimidated Miklos. He felt as eating she kept asking him questions: tude and to work efficiently, he also reduced them to an Yet, she picked up the phone immediately and when he quite a distance away from Budapest’s if he wouldn’t be able to ask her all what music did he like, what films item on his conveyor belt. There were, of course, excep- explained what he was calling about, she invited him to centre and from the nearest bus the probing questions he wanted to. had he watched recently, what did his tions, but they just illuminated the rule. her home. They were to meet the day after tomorrow. station, as it was assumed that its The house was large, yet parents do for a living? There was a Now the time came to cross his conveyor belt Miklos used the available time to refresh his memory of inhabitants and visitors wouldn’t rather simply decorated. The most sparkle in her eyes when he praised with Zsofi’s, even though everybody told him to treat Zsofi by watching old clips of her on YouTube and read- need to use public transport. All the remarkable details were the windows her food and when he told her that her with special care because she was once the greatest ing what had been written about her over the years. He houses on this estate were scattered with ornamental balconies. Two he was single. The last statement female pop stars in Hungary and was still the favourite had to admit that there was a certain cheesiness about somewhat chaotically and hidden windows on the side of the house wasn’t strictly true, but there was no singer of the older generation, including his mother. He her performance, but what music wasn’t cheesy after behind pine and spruce trees. The were concave, three to the front were point in going into detail to explain had to meet her because the following year she was to thirty or so years and especially that which had been roads joining these houses were so narrow and convex and circular at his personal situation. celebrate the fortieth anniversary of her career and his broadcast on Hungarian television? There was also a narrow and twisted that they felt the top. The house was yellow-toned In between answering Zsofi’s like a path in a wood. Indeed, it and had a blueish roof with white questions, Miklos scrutinised her 10. 11. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Sunset Boulevards, Budapest, AD 2018 - Ewa Mazierska appearance. He had to admit that she asked Miklos. “Like with you,” she replied, being married? At least he admitted mean that she was lying to him, but that she’d almost finished writing her looked very well for her age, maybe “Once you become an adult, smiling back. “My optimism was the breakup was his fault and he she must have edited many events autobiography. even better than in her youth, because people start having high expectations also in tune with the times—goulash didn’t quarrel about money. So I out and polished those which she left. “I know it will sell regardless, then there was something cheap, even of you and stop doing things for you socialism. We were privileged living in kept this house and another one we It wouldn’t be easy to write a piece but I wanted it to be a literary work. vulgar, about her; her face was too out of the kindness of their heart. I Hungary, having security, equality, the bought in Italy. Rich and successful about her which included anything Would you be interested in going round, her nose too bulky and her hair became an adult very early. Suddenly highest standard of living and the best men have this sense of entitlement. new. Unless he tried harder. But it through it with me? I know you are too neat. Moreover, she was always everybody wanted something from youth music in the Soviet bloc. There After him, I avoided such men. But was difficult. The food and wine had a talented writer. I’ve read you before jolly and eager to please the audience, me. I had no private life, and not only was much to be content about then.” then there are also problems with made him lethargic. and I haven’t yet found anybody else like a girl scout fronting a band of because people recognised me, but Miklos wondered if this was men who are not successful. They see “I guess the King of the who writes as well as you or, at any goody-goodies, unaware of anything because there was no clear division ever the case for everybody or only for injustice everywhere and feel entitled Shopping Malls was your last rate, anybody of your generation, tragic happening in the world. Now between my private self and my public people like Zsofi, pampered by the she had proper cheekbones, her hair persona. My friends were those who regime, but he didn’t want to interrupt had a life of its own, with grey and benefited from my successes or vice her. “Miklos was thinking that the auburn strands fighting for visibility, versa. And there was so little time “Several years later our son and her smile was tinged with irony. left for ‘real’ life or friendship, that I was born. For a while, it was a happy Eventually it was time for decided not to cultivate those. I focused time, but then things started to change Miklos to ask questions. He asked on the ‘friends’ who kept coming to for the worse. The music Zsolt wrote Zsofi to describe the beginning of her my concerts. I replied to their letters, for me became repetitive and I didn’t love life of his generation felt like career and Zsofi said that she started writing something different each time like the fact that he wanted to make performing in front of the public when and hoping they would write back, all my decisions for me, forcing me to she was only fourteen. She was spotted until there were too many letters to work 24/7, while I wanted to stay at by someone scouting for a teenage reply this way.” home with our child. One day I woke a game of musical chairs: every- folk band: “You know, not a proper “What happened next?” up and realised that there was little folk band, as nobody in Hungary “The next stage was love left between us. So we divorced was interested in proper folklore, but launching my solo career. I ditched just before my thirtieth birthday.” a pretend one. The guy knew friends my old manager-turned-lover, who From the rest of her story of my parents who told him that they was, besides, a bully, and got a new Miklos gathered that over the next body was in transit, nobody had knew a girl who was pretty and liked manager. He also composed my twenty or so years the balance in her singing and dancing. I was recruited songs, while I was learning how to love life and her lyrics changed. The on the spot and became the band’s write lyrics. This was like the perfect gap between her age and that of her leader, making all Hungarian mums pizza—three pizzas for the price of lovers was getting smaller, till it got fall in love with me. The next year I one: a manager, a composer and a tipped in the other direction; Zsofi time to stop and properly fall in recorded my first record, which counts lover. The arrangement was so good became older than her men. This as the beginning of my official career.” that we got married. He was almost was the case of her third husband, “So you were lucky from an forty then, while I was twenty. I was his the “Hungarian king of the shopping early age?” asked Miklos rhetorically. second wife but, again, I didn’t mind malls.” It was with him that she bought love.” “Yes, but the downside of the age gap. I thought love was not this mansion; it happened when she becoming successful so early is that at about match-making, but filling the was forty-three and he thirty-seven. to inflict their misery on the women husband?” Miklos queried, although and all the good journalists are now all my anniversaries people take me gaps.” This marriage also didn’t last. they’re with. This is even worse than he knew the answer. either senile or dead.” for older than I really am.” “What you were writing about “Were you too old for him?” living with a successful bastard.” “Yes, after being married “You mean, you’d like me to Miklos smiled. Indeed, she then?” asked Miklos. ventured Miklos, aware that it wasn’t Miklos was beginning to to him, I lost faith in the institution be your ghost writer?” didn’t look like somebody who’d been “The usual stuff: falling in the most polite of questions, but he think that one’s old age begins when of marriage. Not in love, but in “I wouldn’t put it like that. in the same job for forty years. love, breaking up, starting again. I couldn’t resist asking it. one starts to look at their life the way marriage.” Rather my assistant editor.” “My discoverer became my wrote that the world is beautiful all “I think that the age wasn’t an Zsofi did: seeing patterns in it rather Miklos decided that he “I’m not sure. I have so much first impresario and lover. He was year round, even in autumn. I always issue, but other things were,” replied than unique events, and looking at wouldn’t ask her more questions work at the magazine and I’m doing a almost thirty years older than me and thought that the person I was about Zsofi, again with a sparkle in her eye their youth from the perspective of because she wouldn’t reveal anything PhD. I don’t think I can take on more married, but as I was very young then to meet would be wonderful, so I and a wryness in her smile. what happened many years later. he could find out without having to work for the foreseeable future.” and didn’t have long-term plans, it was preparing myself to meet this “Like what?” He read somewhere that this is how get the answers through the channel “Even if it is well paid?” didn’t matter much. So the story of my wonderful person.” “Like his arrogance. He felt Hollywood biopics were constructed, of his lame questions, which only “I don’t think I really can. adult life began,” said Zsofi with her “Like with me today?” asked entitled to do everything he pleased, by using the “future perfect” tense. made him ashamed of himself. But But I can check with my friends. I’m semi-demure, semi-ironic smile. Miklos, smiling, trying to be jocular, including having lovers. I could have He also got the sense that Zsofi’s when he was about to tell her that sure I would be able to find somebody “What do you mean by that?” but not completely succeeding. lovers too, but then what’s the point of story was well-rehearsed. This didn’t they were done, she informed him good for you.” 12. 13. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Sunset Boulevards, Budapest, AD 2018 - Ewa Mazierska She smiled at the offer, but large car?” asked Miklos, pointing to he countered. even affected his unconscious, as in recognition that there were fewer and time—singing contests and record it was just to mask pain. She must the Honda. And so they continued, as dreams he was haunted by hollow fewer magazines. Miklos was positive deals always go to one’s enemies. The have been used to people giving in to “Well, sometimes I go with always, accusing each other and and fragile objects—egg shells, soap that he would find something, but higher you go, the more opportunities her demands, so any rejection was a my friends to my house in Italy or to defending themselves. Ultimately, bubbles and mummies, some even the very idea of looking made him there are to lose. If you don’t want surprise and an insult. But probably explore Europe. If you want to travel the split wasn’t conclusive, which showing his face. Maybe other people nauseous. Maybe he should have to be demoted, become a rubbish for this reason she didn’t put any off the beaten track, you need a strong frustrated Miklos even more, as he had saw it too, like Eszter, who gave him become an accountant after all, as his collector. But even this does not more pressure on him. Instead, she car.” some of his most prized possessions a collection of poems by Eliot for mother advised him, because people guarantee success.” asked, “Do you want to see the rest The idea that Zsofi engaged in Eszter’s apartment, and he wanted his birthday, asking to pay special seemed to be always in need of good “Thanks for your kind of the house before you go?” in “off the beaten track” trips with to take them back to his own. attention to “The Hollow Men,” but accountants. Suddenly Zsofi’s offer words,” replied Miklos. He meant Miklos wasn’t sure whether her friends didn’t fit well with the The following evening, he he wasn’t into poetry and had no time came to his mind. As soon as he got to be sarcastic, but actually Zsofi she asked this question because she image Miklos had of the singer. But, had a date with Maya. It was their to read it. Yet maybe he should have. back home, he phoned her and almost cheered him up a bit. wanted to keep him longer or to get in fact, after meeting her it was more third meeting and Miklos hoped But there were other things without introduction asked, “Are you “Would you like to come rid of him, but there was no other difficult to build a coherent image of that things would now move faster to take care of, such as writing up the still interested in a ghostwriter?” over?” asked Zsofi. option than to say yes. her at all. with her. He always waited until the interview with Zsofi. The rest of the “Well, not really. After you “I’m not sure. You live so And so she showed him a In the end, Zsofi took the third date to give the girl time to day he spent working on the piece turned my offer down, my friend far away,” said Miklos. “Maybe you sauna, an indoor swimming pool, Mini to give him a lift back to his learn about his virtues and avoid the about her and sent it to her with an suggested to get somebody from a can give me a call when you come to a room with a ping pong table and home in Budapest. They hugged impression that he was burning with email indicating that she should creative writing course. I checked Budapest.” another salon. Outside there was a each other when saying goodbye and lust. Unfortunately, he had no chance accept it the way he wrote it. She sent several candidates and have just “Okay, I will,” she said. tennis court and an outdoor pool, promised to be in touch. to fulfill his plan because, as soon as it back two days later with plenty of found one who seems to be very Actually, when she hung now empty as it was too cold to use it. The following day was he ordered drinks, Maya said that she track changes and comments, as well competent.” up, he regretted that he rejected her There was also a garden with a small Friday. Miklos spent the whole day was not completely truthful with him as thanks for his work. Looking at the “A boy or a girl?” asked invitation as he yearned to leave cemetery for her deceased dogs. working, so that he felt justified in when she told him on the previous document he felt ashamed, as she Miklos. Budapest. It would be best to go “Why don’t you have any having the weekend free. The plan date that she split with her boyfriend, had noticed various spelling mistakes “Why does it matter?” asked somewhere warm, as the days had dogs now?” he asked. was to meet his almost ex-girlfriend because actually she was back with and improved his style. Who would Zsofi. become so short and cold that it felt “If I was to get a dog, it on Saturday and his girlfriend-to-be him. It took Miklos only seconds to think that somebody who was looking “It doesn’t, I’m just curious,” like too much effort to chase the few would have to be from a shelter and on Sunday. First came Eszter, with realise that she used him as leverage for a ghost writer was so good as to replied Miklos. hours of light. However, it would when I go to the shelter, I don’t want whom he had been with for five years in her struggle with another man. She be able to improve the work of her “A boy,” said Zsofi. be unwise to go on holiday when he to choose just one or two, but all of and kept splitting with regularly. even admitted it and suggested that ghost-to-be? This must have been “I see.” had no stable income and no proper them, so I must prepare myself for This time, however, it was meant to they shag as a way of compensating the result of his precarious love life, “Have you lost your job?” girlfriend to go with. So, all in all, the visit. I will go next month.” be for good. He didn’t want to hurt for Miklos’ waste of time and taking which diminished his writing ability. asked Zsofi, after a short silence. visiting Zsofi in her little palace would She also had three cars in her her, but obviously it was impossible. advantage of Maya’s boyfriend being Miklos incorporated her changes “How did you know?” be a bit like a holiday. garage, including a very old Jaguar. Moreover, in order for her to let him away for two days. Miklos felt angry, and sent the piece to his boss, who “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t Luckily, she phoned two “It was my first luxury car go, he had to say things which would being so patronised and pitied, but thanked him and invited him and his have gotten back to me.” days later, telling him that she had an and I never parted with it, because facilitate his departure. He said that lust prevailed and he followed her co-workers to a meeting the following “As a matter of fact, I did.” errand in the capital and could meet it served me as a sort of model—I he felt like she was never satisfied to her apartment. To compound his week. “I’m sorry to hear it. How do him and take him back to her house, wanted to age as well as my car. Did with him, that he always had to fulfill humiliation, before leaving in the The meeting was about you feel?” for a chat, a meal and some spa time. I?” she asked coquettishly. some kind of emotional debt with morning, he asked Maya to give him closing the magazine. The editor-in- “How can I feel? Like a loser. Miklos thought that she must have “Of course,” he replied. her. Eszter looked at him with her big a call if things changed between her chief said that this was because the Actually, a triple loser...this is the been reading his mind and, indeed, What else could he say? But truth be eyes, which grew even bigger as he and her boyfriend. financial backing for the publication third time this has happened to me in her invitation was concluded with told, the more time he spent with her, continued in this way. As he returned home, Miklos was suddenly withdrawn. Although five years.” the query, “Was I reading your the more he appreciated how well she “You weren’t always a was thinking that the love life of his he didn’t say it openly, everybody He felt awful telling her all thoughts?” looked. disappointment to me,” she said in generation felt like a game of musical knew that this was due to political this because normally he wouldn’t She picked him in her red “Whenever they shoot a film the end. “I just wanted for us to be chairs: everybody was in transit, pressure. The good news was that admit such things to strangers, but Mini at midday. This time she didn’t set in the sixties and seventies, the happier, to move in together, but you nobody had time to stop and properly they would be open until the end he didn’t care. In fact, he wanted to look like a female Santa Claus, but producers approach me to lend it, as always held back, as if you were not fall in love. Perhaps this was because of the year, possibly even the end immerse himself in his misery, as if more like a business woman, wearing apparently it is the best-maintained sure if I was worth your effort.” everybody tried to “optimise”— of January, which would give the the way to recovery was reaching a dark blue suit and a pencil skirt in classic car in all of Hungary.” This was true, but Miklos making sure that their investment staff a cushion to find employment rock bottom. the same colour. But there was a red The other two cars were found it difficult to admit. in somebody paid off. This was, of elsewhere. “Don’t exaggerate. This scarf on the front seat, as if proof relatively new: a red Mini and a black “Well, when I tried course, also his case. And this sense of There was the usual outrage, is not the end of the world. If you that she never gave in to a convention SUV Honda. the hardest, you showed little lightness and transience pertained to followed by discussions about were a singer, even a well-known entirely. She explained to Miklos that “Why do you need such a appreciation...always in a bad mood,” everything he was doing. It must have where to go. There was, however, a one, you would keep losing all the she had met her old producer and 14. 15. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18

manager who tried to persuade her addition to your mind, keep your “Oh, I see,” said Miklos. to make a record with new material, money. So this is what I want to say “Before you go, take this Sari Romance followed by a tour in Hungary and to young women who try to make a piece of paper. Here is an email and some places in the old Eastern bloc, career in music and those who have a telephone number of my friend Ashok Rajamani where she was still very popular. But passed their prime. There is life after Klari. You must have heard about Zsofi wasn’t sure if she wanted to do the ball; there is pleasure in taking her—in her heyday she was almost it. off one’s glass eye and corking up as famous as me, which was about “I don’t need money, I don’t the bottle of dye, metaphorically ten years before my debut. Klari is need fame,” she said. “I had all of speaking, at least.” also working on her memoirs and this and don’t need more.” She then took him to the I convinced her that she needs a “What about self- part of the house where there was a ghostwriter, as her prose is horrible expression?” asked Miklos, although sauna and a swimming pool. She left and she lies so ineptly that even a he deeply disliked this word—the him there, telling him that she must child wouldn’t believe her. Mind favourite term of the pompous losers. take off her glass eye and false teeth, that it might take you some time to “I don’t need to express before joining him. After half an reach her, as she likes to play a diva, myself through songs either. I prefer hour she returned in a red and yellow especially now, but once you meet now to write in prose, as I told you.” suit. Miklos was thinking that she her, you will like her and she is also a She took him to the kitchen didn’t look any worse than before; she very good cook.” and handed him a glass of wine, had no spots or varicose veins, and Then she hugged him and while making stir fry with rice, was almost as slim as when she was took him to the gate. On the bus to which was followed by homemade at the peak of her fame. If he didn’t Budapest, Miklos was counting all of ice cream. Her food was once again know, he would think she was in her his recent humiliations, making sure delicious and she served it and ate it early forties rather than mid-fifties. that he didn’t miss anything. It was with him in a matter-of-fact way. This There was also a certain boldness good to know that the year would was unlike his mother, who expected and romanticism about her when she end soon, even though this did not him to erect a virtual monument to stood at the edge of the pool, looking guarantee that the new year would be her cuisine, even though her cooking in front of her, reminding Miklos of any better. hadn’t changed for twenty years. a “wanderer above the sea of fog” Back at home, Miklos found When they finished, she took from the painting whose author he an email from Zsofi, urging him to Miklos to her study and showed him couldn’t remember. For a moment he contact Klari, as she was about to too long, voluntarily missing his “Marrying Time” for n Indian man named Anil Murthy wed the beginning of her book. Its title thought about approaching her from leave Budapest for the Christmas years. It was time. He was in his forties, after all. He lived a young,A rather wealthy, young woman named Leenu was After the Ball and it started with a behind and touching her thigh, just break. He phoned her and, the alone with his mom. Anil’s work as a top pharmaceutical Narayan. However, when this cherry-unpopped maiden little poem: to know what it would feel like, but next day, he went to her house. He auditor forced him to travel often. In a few weeks, he was to married Anil, she did not love him. Actually, she did not like she jumped into the water and swam pressed the doorbell, stepping back supervise chemical plants in Cambodia for over five weeks. him. In fact, she did not even know of his existence at all. After the ball was over/Zsofi took out her away before the thought could fully from it after to look above him. It And so, this time it was imperative for him to marry before Leenu, at twenty-three, was informed by her father that she glass eye/Put her false teeth in water/ form in his head. was again sunset and the sky was he would leave India. was to be a bride within a week after she graduated from Corked up her bottle of dye/Put her false Then she approached him again very colourful. Maybe it was Anil’s mother, however, was completely set against the local women’s college. Which meant she was educated. leg in the corner/Hung up her wig on the and they talked for a while about new global warming which changed the this union. She felt Leenu was not pretty enough, not smart Which meant it was time for her to be settled, time for her door/And all that is left goes to bye byes/ music from Hungary. It appeared celestial sphere in Hungary, or maybe enough to marry her Anil. She wanted him to wait until to leave to another man’s home. After the ball. she followed several bands and even God gave these ageing stars special the right one came along. Not old maid Sharda, not ugly Mr. Narayan wasted no time in finding a man for helped a couple of them. Then she protection. Whatever the reason, he Leenu. Interestingly enough, the older woman had never his Leenu, who was rather homely, plump and too dark- “Did you write it yourself ?” looked at her watch and told Miklos decided that it was a good sign. even met Leenu, but based her judgment on a photo and skinned in a society that embraced whiteness. But she asked Miklos. that it was time to go. Miklos didn’t the neighborhood commentary on the girl, she could tell was young; she had that unbroken-hymen feel. When “No, I only translated it into plan to stay much longer, but he felt this was the wrong pick for a daughter-in-law. So when Anil Mr. Narayan contacted his wealthy neighbor for suggest- Hungarian. It is an old English song hurt by her deciding to cut his visit Murthy came to see Leenu, he was alone since his mother ed spouses, he was told to reach Anil Murthy, who was in or a nursery rhyme. I discovered it short. refused to be involved. a hurry to marry, being in what was dubbed “Marrying many years ago and liked it, it is very “What else are you doing this Ever the realist, Anil accepted the marriage pro- Time,” the month-long period in which future husbands funny in its masochism and the point evening?” he asked when they got posal immediately. He knew he needed a bride. And he was were hunted for brides. of this song is not to lose your mind dressed. too lazy to find one himself. Plus, she wasn’t old at all, bare- At forty-five, Anil Murthy had been a bachelor far even if you lose everything else. And “I have a date,” she replied ly in her twenties. Good age for birthing. The youth factor then, if you can keep something in with her mischievous smile. 16. 17. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Sari Romance - Ashok Rajamani and kiss and squeeze and taste the one “My name is Ranchod” and Ancient Tanjore miniature was quite nice. Leenu was no Miss Teen feel good. That was, until, she intense snoring, Leenu was able women who were married to Anil’s th-th-th-that’s all folks. He wheeled paintings garnished the walls. Mumbai, but she was young. During noticed his unfortunately oversized to make out the small bloodstains friends. her two black Samsonite suitcases Expensive pastel-colored furniture their first meeting, he murmured and third nipple. At that point, though, on her sheet. She looked up at the The next morning after mumbled so fiercely that Leenu could through the neverending masses mingled with pricey bamboo she had stopped caring. With her ceiling, mortified that this painful her bedroom nightmare with her not understand his words. She hoped of brown skin into the car, which ornamentation. The ceilings were half-priced red sari, hastily applied ordeal was what the entire world new husband, a cab took Anil he was saying, “Nice to meet you.” But looked like an Indian version of a extravagantly high, and the large makeup and cheap jewelry, she was thought was so wonderful. from her home and left for the for all she knew, he might have been tiny red Mazda Miata. Ranchod imperial windows opened to face a as wooden as a marionette, going If this was sex, she thought, airport. Cambodia was welcoming saying, “I’m hung like a horse” or, didn’t speak a word to her during magnificent flower garden. “Can I borrow your earrings?” through the motions emotionlessly. she understood why Mother Teresa him for four months, while the the drive, which lasted over forty “Please have a seat,” the The marriage deal was Leenu was a kabuki wanted nothing to do with it. And nightmare of her mother-in-law, minutes. Not being a fan of silence, woman said grumpily, pointing cemented. performer in budget bridal drag. she understood why men were not in turn, welcomed her. Any new Leenu was delighted to hear the Leenu toward the living room, a The Narayans had little time The whole nightmare her cup of chai. Leenu’s sexual bride would expect this situation maddening noise on the streets, a recessed seating area exhibiting to plan for the wedding: Anil was took a staggering thirty minutes. desire for other women had never to be the worst possible nightmare. scheduled to depart for Southeast Asia robust cacophony of loud crowds what was, perhaps, the world’s Leenu never had an engagement been a problem for her. Many She was terrified. After all, she still the day after the wedding ceremony and even louder rickshaws. Soon widest widescreen television. She celebration, a bridal shower or women, she reasoned, grew up didn’t even know the name of her itself. Since there was no time to they were driving away from thanked her and quietly took her anything that would have made to hate men. So how was she any husband’s mother. book a wedding hall at a temple, the urbanity, into tree-lined streets and seat on a large beige sofa. this day something wonderful. It different? It never dawned on her It was the crack of dawn ceremony was held in the upstairs homes. They were soon entering “She’s here Madame!” the hall of Leenu’s home. It was called a was bad enough that she would that their hate could brew from when Anil was picked up by a cab. her mother-in-law’s ‘hood, the woman proclaimed, turning her hall, but in reality it was a small space soon be moving out of her house reasons other than lack of sexual She gave him a shy smile, hugged mega-luxury enclave near Mumbai, body carelessly towards the rest of adjoining the two bedrooms on the immediately. It was even worse that desire. It never dawned on her that him like she were Agnes of God, Pali Hill. Mansions galore. Anil the home. “The lady of the house second floor. she did not even know whose house they hated men precisely because of and said farewell. Just a few hours had told her he was wealthy, but will be right with you,” she said to The guest list was she would be moving into. Without their lack of sexual desire for this later, it was her time to leave. For not this wealthy. With ridiculously Leenu, her face contorted in brittle extraordinarily limited: just around, her new husband. group of humanity who, almost Leenu, her final farewell from collectively, ten members of the elite boutiques, spacious residences splendor. Per custom, Leenu and her always, tended to be assholes. the Narayan home was a blur, Narayans and a few of Anil’s aunts. The and showy automobiles bordering Ten minutes later, she new husband spent their wedding Most of these women would have congested with cordial goodbyes whole event was an embarrassment, a its streets, Pali Hill was more was startled by a melody of bells night at her home itself. The next yearned to lust after women and be from the few people in the house. shotgun wedding in which the bride Beverly Hills than Bollywood was ringing in thumping harmony. The morning, he would depart for his saved the grief. All she could remember was the was neither pregnant nor in any hurry. Hollywood. sound was wildly pleasing, and Sharda Murthy, of course, refused to business trip, and she was to move Leenu also never questioned tears of her mother, who had The car stopped in front after recovering from the shock watch her only son’s marriage, sending into his mother’s home directly. All her sexuality because the badge of objected to the marriage from the of a bungalow just a bit smaller, of its surprising entry into the her emissaries–her sisters–to play the she knew about her was that she heterosexuality was neither thrust beginning. Her mother, who had yet impossibly palatial, ivory and hallway’s quiet state of meditation, surrogate role. was very, very wealthy. upon her, nor expected of her. always wished that her daughter castle-like. she became mesmerized by the Walking around the That night, Anil was The women in her community would have an extravagant wedding When she rang the bold sound. It was a jingly and ceremonial fire as a nameless, all Leenu’s. That first night in were never asked, “Who are with a man that she liked, or even doorbell of the home, Leenu was jangly song in motion. Leenu amateur priest read the mantras, bed together, three-nippled you dating?,” let alone, “Are you actually knew. greeted by a pale, rotund Indian couldn’t detect where it came Leenu sobbed all the way through muscleman Anil fucked Leenu in straight or gay?” They were only Leenu’s tears, which woman in a purple sari. “Velcome. from until she noticed a whirl of her marriage ceremony. Anil, in his their bedroom. His grunts were asked one thing: “Are you married had been tidal throughout the Coumma yin,” she mumbled pink. Bright, blinding olive, muddy traditional gear of a simple white his only conversation. She bit her or not?” And, of course, since all ceremony, were relentless in the unenthusiastically, before she could green-brown fabric. As the image dhoti sarong and brahmanical lip and shut her eyes until the few of the marriages were arranged, morning as she walked out the even say anything. The woman zoomed in closer, she realized that thread, seemed dazed. He was minutes were over. The bedroom sexual attraction–or compatibility door alone, newly married. was making a valiant attempt at the material was a sari made of silk, topless, as was tradition. Through was lit only by the moon outside or, heaven forbid, love–were never A driver knocked on the speaking English, and an even and housed a petite Indian woman her tears, Leenu was able to make the window. This Mumbai moon, prerequisites. In business dealings door. She knew it was time to go. more valiant attempt at seeming with surprisingly perky, full breasts. out his heavy black eye makeup, so bright, so big, so bold, looked such as these, the matter of whose He was in his sixties, interested in Leenu. Appearing extremely young for a the kajol traditionally worn by like a giant pupil-less eyeball face would be sniffing between her around five feet, slender and had After walking in, she woman way past hot flash age, she grooms. Tranny-Lite, yes, but it voyeuristically watching a hairy thighs was never an issue, as long the normal face uniform of all got a chance to further take in was a little more than five feet tall, worked on him. And she saw his Brahmin pound his virgin bride. as she moved into a groom’s home. Indian men: a big, thick, bushy, the opulence. It was amazing. and looked as if her body mass sexy, hairy, muscular torso. Which After Anil achieved his goal and When the urge hit her, Leenu dark mustache. He was extremely Marble flooring everywhere. would barely reach ninety pounds. made her, at least for the moment, then fell asleep in a gale of deep, figured, she could touch and fondle formal. One quick handshake, 18. 19. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Sari Romance - Ashok Rajamani

She was bundled in at least fake or not. As the woman wiped “Leenu, everyday I couldn’t diamonds on her nostrils, screwing style. Leenu knew Mother Silky hadn’t brick open-air kitchen facing the ten silk yards of drab fabric. Picture a her forehead with her veiny hands, see you, I cried for you. But, even and unscrewing the studs erratically read even one of those books, but that veranda, was Mother Silky, laughing greenish-black M&M if the chocolate Leenu noted that three fingers of her more, I cried for my life itself! Every like a busted nail driver. She stood up made her appreciate her penchant for and giggling like a crazed and lonely was the size of a dot and the covering left hand, and two of her right, were day, I wondered, ‘What has become of suddenly, and within a second, started overindulgence even more. Who was spinster playing with pets. Her body shell looked like military fatigues. adorned with gold bands supporting Silky? Why must so many bad things yawning loudly, in a fierce attempt she trying to impress? Nobody was was writhing. Leenu touched herself Then, Leenu finally discovered the giant, sparkling diamonds, same as the happen to her? First her husband dies! to be subtly not-so subtle. Her sleepy ever using that room. as she watched. Look at her breasts. mysterious origin of the music: anklets. large, shiny studs stabbed into her two And she has never seen her nephew! roaring reminded her of the Metro- After perusing the shelves– Those breasts. Those breasts are Ornamented, intricately-detailed ears and two nostrils. What other sorrows will God throw Goldwyn-Mayer lion. they were filled with self-help volumes perfect. silver anklets that were clasped and “Hello Mother,” Leenu said, her way?’” “Mother Silky,” Leenu and inappropriate books like What One tiny fan whirled slowly twirling around tiny brown feet. after taking in all of the splendor. She then discussed how, sadly, croaked, “shouldn’t you be in bed? I’m To Expect When You’re Expecting–Leenu above her as she inhaled the sticky, She jumped up. She noticed “Shhhh!” she silenced her her pain and sorrow caused so much so sorry to keep you from your nap.” went back to her quarters and reclined moist Mumbai air. Soon, the scents that besides the old woman’s tits and immediately. “There is nobody here grief she had to lie in bed for one week As if her real self finally returned, her on the bed for a while. She shut her kicked in, one by one. Garlic, turmeric, anklets, there was nothing remarkable. by that name!” Seeing Leenu’s look straight. lips tightened. “If you don’t mind, I eyes. Before she knew it, she heard chili, coriander, ginger–all blended The hair was disheveled. The face of befuddlement, she continued, “You “I’m sorry that you had to really should shut my eyes for a bit. Mother Silky yelling downstairs. It was seamlessly to create her altered blotchy and tired. The skin far from will call me Mother Silky. I quit using go through that,” Leenu responded, Rekha will show you to your room.” exactly four p.m. climate, an atmosphere of irresistible soft. She was even sporting a faint– my real name, “Sharda,” years ago, not knowing what else to say. She “Rekha!,” she boomed, “show “Leenu, come down for flavor. well, not-so faint–mustache. after my husband died. Now I only go was breathing heavily. She wanted Leenu her room, and take her luggage SILKY TIME!” As she descended in When her mission was The older woman had been by the name Silky. My saris are made this woman. You see, Mother Silky while you’re at it!” Poor Rekha, who obeyance, Mother Silky added, “Ready completed, Leenu ran back to the conflicted when she said goodbye only of silk, my hair feels like silk and has once been a beauty. Back in her had been hiding in the kitchen since for snacks? We shall have pakoras!” sofa, lazily gazing at the television to her son who would now be in my skin is like silk itself!” sex symbol days, she usually adorned running out of the room, morosely she said in a strangely conspiratorial as though she had never left. After Southeast Asia for weeks. While she Leenu’s mouth hung open. herself in brightly-colored saris, walked over to her. She knew she whisper. summoning her to the remarkably was thrilled to see her son finally marry, Her skin was somewhat wrinkly, her groomed her hair, wore slashes of should have offered to take the two Leenu was surprised. Pakoras, nondescript dining room, Mother she resented the woman next to her. hair was coarse and wiry. The only ruby lipstick. But one year before she large suitcases to the bedroom. But deep-fried fritters, were not the Silky brought her a platter of freshly- The bitch who took him away. So she thing silky about her was the sari, and met Leenu, Manish, her husband of she wanted to see Rekha get angry. easiest things to make. She couldn’t cooked, freshly-fried pakoras to the did what any woman in her position that was such an awful, muddy color over four decades, had a sudden heart She was a sari-fied Florence from understand how this Mother Silky, table. They began eating what she would do: she faked happiness. Over that it made no difference. Leenu was attack and died. Her grief smothered The Jeffersons. Plus, it was not as if she this yawning-like-a-lion Mother Silky, presumably considered, psychotically, the top happiness. speechless. her. True, she hadn’t been as extreme was actually carrying anything. The could ever handle such a project. She to be miniature dumplings of ecstasy. “My gorgeous Leenu! I have “Leenu, sit down, Mother as orthodox Hindu widows who would luggage had wheels. After reaching spoke up. “But who’s cooking them? After all, she had been dancing and been dying to see you!” the woman Silky must say something to you.” shave their heads. Silky never fully her room, Leenu sat on the large king- Rekha is still sleeping in the maid’s laughing manically as she constructed gushed theatrically, as phony as the She couldn’t wait to hear recovered though, and stopped caring sized bed and closed the door. Rekha room, right?” them. gold gracing her fingers. Her dialect what would come out next. Joining about her appearance altogether. She sprinted away, her teeth clenched and “Oh Leenu, she doesn’t live There were few words spoken, was blanketed in the pompousness of her on the couch, Mother Silky began let her hair grow wiry and coarse; eyes narrowed. The room, lush and here. She goes to her own home after as her mouth was full relishing her Queen’s English. “I see you’ve met sobbing heartily. It was enough to wet she stopped using the black dye and fragrant, was painted powder blue and lunch. The chef, Ramu, prepares creations. “This is my daily snack. lovely Rekha,” she beamed, referring the floor. “This is a divine rainbow the coconut oils and the scents. She housed wrought iron cabinets. This dinner in early morning and freezes it. Nothing else. I love it.” Seeing her to the woman who had answered miracle. I have been aching to see you even let the three or four or five or was Mother Silky’s guest lodging? She I heat it up for dinner, being the hard disapproving face, she continued, the door and, by now, scurried away. and now I am seeing you!” nine wispy hairs under her nose and was blown away. worker that I am.” “And don’t give me that look! I’m quite Leenu’s eyes widened in a confusing “Moth–I mean, Mother Silky, chin grow. But one could tell that her When Leenu was done “So who makes the snacks?” fit, thank you very much.” blend of surprise, curiosity, excitement, don’t cry. You haven’t seen me, true, beauty never left. She was unkempt. freshening up in her quarter of the “I do!” she laughed. “This is Leenu nodded quizzically, and, well, just a hint of fear. but I’m here now,” she murmured, That’s all. She was still Sophia Loren house’s twin sink restroom, she toured my joy!” not understanding how Mother Silky Jasmine flowers were pinned hugging her tightly and wondering with brown skin. She still called herself the spaces surrounding her room. Confused, Leenu joined her could eat her fried pakoras daily at the base of long, wiry, grey, braided what a rainbow miracle was, exactly. Mother Silky. Bottom line: she was still Next door, she discovered, was a large in the kitchen. Mother Silky quickly and still maintain her sexy figure. hair that swung down Mother Silky’s She knew her mother-in-law hated sexy squared. room filled with countless books. This told her to sit in the living room while With her body, somehow she must back. She studied her frumpy face. her. But this was overkill. The older It only took two weeks after was her library. She immediately knew she prepared the food. She heeded the have exercised daily, but she couldn’t She did not look like a wealthy woman continued to weep, wiping her Anil left for Leenu to fall madly in love Mother Silky never used it: it looked request. After a few minutes though, imagine her voluntarily breaking a woman. Everything was missing, eyes with a lacy handkerchief she had with the old woman. She brought her completely, desperately untouched. she walked over to the kitchen, sweat. Classic binge and purge? No, she thought: where was the perfectly pulled effortlessly from the deep cleft back to earth. The large room might as well have moving delicately and gingerly so as she assumed, forcing herself to gag painted vermillion tikka between her between her surprisingly large breasts “Mother Silky is strong. God been an alternate safe for the Hope not to bother her. She wouldn’t call it would take too much effort. Just really, expensively threaded brows? The and squeezed inside her too-tight has given her strength,” she said with Diamond, since its protective concrete spying, though. It was more like “quiet really good genetics. Whatever kept intact foundation? The immaculately- blouse. Mother Silky did this with the the grimace of a grade-A drama sliding door looked as though it had chaperoning.” What she saw amazed her in that shape, it didn’t matter, not lined crimson lipstick? The only thing speed and precision of an old school queen. The thumb and forefinger never, ever been slid open. She could her. to Leenu. Not at all. Because at that remarkable was the amount of gold– magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. of her left hand played with the almost see tumbleweeds, ghost town There, dancing in the red moment, her mouth was frozen, wide 20. 21. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Sari Romance - Ashok Rajamani open and suddenly dry. And her heart discovered how the older woman stayed fitness with my instructor, Janaki.” She was something different. strolled out of the house. beautiful without her mountains of was suddenly beating too fast. Her so sexy. It was early morning, and her pointed to the woman in pigtails. “She “Give me thirty, Silky!” Janaki “What a workout!” Mother makeup. She wouldn’t obviously think lusty, romantic reaction to Mother eyes were hardly open when there was is the genius who keeps me in shape.” yelled. Silky cried out. “Leenu, see what I so, as she devoted the next thirty Silky shook her entirely. It had been a knock on the door. Opening it, she The woman named Janaki Leenu was on her toes; she must do to keep this figure?” minutes to applying a new plaster of building up ever since she met the saw raggedy Rekha’s face in close-up. smiled at Leenu. Mother Silky couldn’t wait to see the Mother Silky Oh the things I would do to your paint, including a precisely drawn woman with the anklets. And now, “Madame is downstairs waiting for then looked directly at her, her eyes do thirty of anything. But Janaki figure. tikka placed neatly in the middle of like a masala volcano, it had erupted, you. She has already started.” She said squinting. “I have bought a workout wasn’t referring to thirty poses. Or Mother Silky marched to a her forehead. No geisha could match completely. nothing else. No “good morning,” no outfit just for you. I got it as soon as even thirty push-ups. She was ordering table near the workout room’s exit her level of face art. Freshly made This was not some horny wife “how did you sleep?” Leenu walked I found out you would be coming Mother Silky to do thirty jumping where she had placed an industrial- up, she walked into the bathroom’s of her hubby’s golf partner. This was down the winding marble staircase, here.” She pulled out something from jacks. Jumping jacks. After she had sized jug of filtered water and towel. adjoining walk-in closet for her the woman who created Anil in the wishing she had a turban and bathrobe a dresser by the mat. “Try this on!” finished just ten, she was too tired to After chugging, rather indelicately, much-anticipated costume change. first place. And so, it only took two so she could mimic Norma Desmond, It was a tiny, low-cut black Spandex go on. At this point, Leenu was on the straight from the jug and mopping her Funneling through her mountains of weeks after Anil left for Leenu to fall or at least some old-time movie star leotard. Leenu felt herself blush, and verge of a nervous breakdown like any face and neck, she walked with Leenu silk saris and matching blouses, she truly, madly, deeply in love with the just waking up in the Hollywood Hills. forced herself to say no. Almodóvar woman. If she could have to the dining room. As they progressed, found the right combo. She chose to old woman. His mother. She was Upon reaching the ground If she were to wear the a boner, she would have been sporting Leenu couldn’t help but notice that wrap herself in a lattice-patterned attracted to this frumpy female, and floor, she saw a blue-hued, massive “workout outfit” she wouldn’t be able a nine-incher at the very least. Mother Silky hadn’t really needed ruby-and-gold trimmed nine-yard sari would do anything to have her. Good workout pad in a room adjoining to get her hands off Mother Silky. She “Janaki, why must you make the towel after all. She was barely with gold blouse. Lastly, she pinned a Lord, Leenu smiled to herself, I love the main hall, which must have been was just no match for the power of me work so hard!” sweating; Leenu was disappointed. few pale yellow carnations to her post- this lady. One of the major rules in locked away the previous day, as this Lycra Sexiness®, like most of us. “We want you to be beautiful, Still, she thought of how she could nap, newly fashioned mane, a coconut traditional joint families: the daughter- was the first time she had seen it. “No thanks, I’m fine the way no?” Both women then broke into, make her sweat. oil-enhanced ponytail of black silk. in-law was to take care of the mother- Leenu was in shock. Mother Silky of I’m dressed,” Leenu said, feeling oddly enough, authentic laughter. And then, one rainy and She now looked like a in-law’s needs. For the first time, Leenu the stunning silk saris was in a bright herself sweat already. “Now back to work!” muggy day, she passed by Mother supermodel, someone Bollywood was glad to follow rules. But she went green leotard. The phrase “Let’s Get “But–” Leenu didn’t even “Ayoooo! Ayooooo!” Mother Silky’s room. The door was open a starlets would resent at any casting further than performing the standard Physical” was imprinted in bubble let her finish, successfully changing Silky moaned loudly. bit, so she took the opportunity to peer call. And she knew it, blowing a kiss daughter-in-law aid of helping cook, letters on the Spandex fabric stretched the subject swiftly. She then decided I bet I can make you moan even in, hoping to steal a glance of the old at the mirror. And so the afternoons clean, and wash the clothes: she gave across her hefty chest which had been she wouldn’t do any of it. She would louder, Leenu thought. woman’s nudity. What she discovered, would pass. Leenu dressing up like Mother Silky morning back rubs, encased in a sports bra. She had on rather just watch her object of desire After the thirty were however, devastated her. a Bollywood goddess, Mother Silky coconut-oil hair cleansings to follow wristbands and a headband, all made like a lazy audience member. completed, Janaki said, “Time for the There, on the phone, was pretending not to look. When they the woman’s baths, leg massages while of white cotton, the type people wore “In fact, Mother Silky, I’m next round!” Mother Silky talking softly to, would converse, Leenu would stare she slept and simple foot and hand in the eighties while jogging on roller not exercising today. Since it’s my first “Oh, please, not the second presumably, an old friend. And that’s intensely at her, and laugh at Mother grooming. skates, down a boardwalk, listening time here, I just want to observe, if round. I am so exhausted.” when Leenu heard those awful words: Silky’s lame jokes. When she would Mother Silky was delighted, to the Xanadu Soundtrack. Her hair was that’s okay with you. I promise I’ll start “This is what exercise is, Silky. “When is Anil coming back? I can’t grab a dish on the table, Leenu would never having known the luxuries of pulled back in a tight bun. A short, exercising with you tomorrow.” As the Westerners say, ‘No pain, no stand the bitch!” “accidentally” reach for the plate at pedicures and manicures. However, muscular, middle-aged sepia-skinned “Fine. Just watch then!” She gain!’” The next few days she barely the same time. Once, when Mother after a week, she noticed something Indian woman in pigtails stood in sounded irritated. “Ayooooo!” said anything to her mother-in-law. Silky had a particle of rice stuck on strange about her daughter-in-law’s front of the mat, facing her in a black Janaki finally spoke: “Let’s “Okay, let’s do this. Come That is, until she realized that she her lips, Leenu gingerly pressed two pampering. Leenu was liking it. In fact, leotard. begin. Ommmmmmm. Ommmmmm.” on!” didn’t care if Mother Silky hated her. fingers on her mouth, removing the she was physically getting far too close The two women were Leenu was getting excited. After all the buildup, Leenu She was going to continue pursuing bits delicately, sensuously. to her. During the daily massages, as extending their arms into letters, Although she had never done yoga, expected a mammoth “second round.” her. No matter what. Leenu began Even if she didn’t quite need Leenu would run her jeweled fingers à la “YMCA” dance steps. Leenu she had watched it on TV, and all Especially since the first one consisted doing extravagant midday ablutions a retouch, Leenu would tell her, through Mother Silky’s gray hair, understood these to be their idea of of the contortions and squats and of simple jumping jacks. Instead, she after her naps. She didn’t strip to “Silky, your sari is slipping, let me she would lean in so that her sari- stretches. movements turned her on. But perhaps saw Mother Silky and Janaki doing full nudity but kept on her bra and get it straight,” as she would reach wrapped breasts would brush against “Morning, Mother Silky,” it wasn’t yoga, she thought. Maybe it something even less vigorous than petticoat. for Mother Silky’s body to center the her mother-in-law’s face. Leenu would Leenu muttered lazily. was pilates, or best yet, Tae Bo. round one. Walking in place. That’s Her bathroom door wide toga-like pallu which hung down her always giggle afterwards, and call it “Good day to you! First I Whatever it would turn out all, walking in place. open, she stood at her large sink, where aged spine. an “accident.” But Mother Silky’s wondered if I should let you sleep, but to be, she was happy. She liked seeing “Silky, let’s shoot for five she carefully splashed cool sudsy water And then it hit the old woman: intuition told her something different. then I realized we must keep in shape, how flexible Mother Silky could be, minutes of this.” on her face, neck and armpits. All Leenu was seducing her. She realized Leenu had started wearing brighter no? I like to have exactly thirty minutes considering she barely liked moving to When the walking was the residual warpaint that had been this from years of watching Dynasty. blouses, and intricately-carved gold to get in shape every morning. Also, I pick up the remote control. However, done, the thirty-minute workout had blotched from morning sweat and There was only the American version anklets. think exercise is good for anyone! I am she didn’t see her vision of yoga, or finished. Janaki washed her face, nap time smudging was now removed, that was shown on Indian television, In the second week, she just doing my stretches for morning anything close to pilates. What she saw then grabbed her big brown bag and her face clean, pure, bare. She looked and that was the one circa the 1980s 22. 23. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Sari Romance - Ashok Rajamani starring Joan Collins and Linda Evans. something greater. She soon enjoyed started going to the local threading led to moments that did not need any silent love affair. The neighbors kept She remembered one episode in sharing Leenu’s company. She soon salon to remove the hairs on her face. penetration to unfold sex. Leenu’s wondering why Mother Silky looked particular: Joan Collins, playing the enjoyed being pampered by Leenu. She Now that she was lusted, after all, how habit of singing while showering so good. In the end, no sex was ever character Alexis, was being pursued by soon enjoyed conversing with Leenu. could she have a mustache? brought joy to Mother Silky. Especially performed. It didn’t need to be, a glamorous lesbian down the block. She soon enjoyed looking at Leenu’s Mother Silky was homely no since our now-black-haired lady liked though. Both women got what they The lesbian used many of the seduction body. more. She realized this whole situation knowing what the “young people” wanted. Well, except for Leenu. She tactics employed by Leenu, except the When she first met her, she was terrible: she was desiring a girl who, were listening to. In the case of never did get to see what was under the sari routine.No saris were ever worn; thought the younger girl was hideous. basically, had just become her own Leenu, the artist of note seemed to be petticoat. Mother Silky didn’t worry Beyoncé. So Mother Silky would stand about that. She had already secretly outside the bathroom as Leenu would seen Leenu’s goods once. After one of shower, not simply for a glimpse of Leenu’s “concerts.” The women in her community the younger woman’s body, but for a Upon his return, Anil was performance of Leenu’s. shocked to see his mother look so The closest thing Leenu got fantastic. His return didn’t really to unwrapping Mother Silky’s sari affect the romance between the two took place in the third week of Anil’s women either. After all, the two ladies were never asked, ‘Who are absence. Leenu had gotten used to had never spoken about their hidden rubbing Mother Silky’s legs as she attraction in the first place, and plus, slept. But, finally, she yielded to a the only physical interaction between desire that had been burning within Mother Silky and Leenu took place you dating?,’ let alone, ‘Are the newly-proud mother-in-law-loving late at night. Anil would be sleeping slutlet. She bent her face down by the by then. And even if it was impossible old woman’s feet, and carefully, gently, for the two to meet–if Anil insisted on she started licking the right one. It was all-night sex or if Mother Silky was aged, veiny and leathery, but Leenu not in the mood–Leenu discovered you straight or gay?’ They were wanted it more than any curried that her husband’s company wouldn’t potatoes in the world. be so bad. Anil was surprised at how Feeling braver, she opened well his wife sucked his toes. His wife her mouth and sucked the toes on was surprised at how good non-liver- only asked one thing: ‘Are you that liver-spotted foot, one by one. spotted feet could taste. And the Her tongue scraped Mother Silky’s new maid, hired a month later, was toe ring, but she didn’t mind. It was a surprised at how well Mother Silky lip- cleaning that the jewelry needed. synched Beyoncé songs. Mother Silky, awakened by the married or not?’” delicious sensation, opened her eyes in shock, but then quickly shut them, determined to keep the ruse intact, the female suitor would straighten out Too dark, too plain, too plump. But she daughter. But she stopped caring. Life all the while getting the pleasure of Alexis’ sexy spaghetti-strapped black was proven wrong. The darkness was was too short, and nobody would ever her feet serviced. After many minutes evening dresses instead. But perhaps actually smoldering duskiness. What know. Or so she hoped. But as Mother passed, however, she opened her eyes. Mother Silky was mistaken. she had initially thought was ugliness Silky showed, this was not exactly the Within a millisecond, Leenu moved After all, thought Mother was actually earthly lushness. As for her case. Neighbors talked. Especially when back to her original position, rubbing Silky, I am a lonely old woman. Maybe plumpness? Gourmet voluptuousness, they saw an old woman glamorous once the feet with her hands once again. In I want her to lust after me. Neither of course. The more that Leenu’s more. Especially when they saw an old sex lingo, the erotic sucking of a lover’s Mother Silky nor Leenu mentioned flirtation continued, and the more that woman never, ever leave the side of her toes is called shrimping. Leenu would the daughter-in-law’s not-so-subtle Mother Silky realized she wanted it, constantly beaming daughter-in-law. have been horrified if she heard that flirtations, real or not. However, the older woman began caring for her A daughter-in-law who wouldn’t stop term. She was a staunch vegetarian. Mother Silky started liking them. appearance once again. She bought holding her hand. During the next two weeks And she started liking Leenu. A lot. pink and ruby saris lined with gold. The silent seduction between before Anil returned, the shrimping While, at first, it was the one-sided joy She began dyeing her hair once again, the two progressed, neither mentioning ritual was performed nightly. The and flattery of being pursued as an so that the long wire shone as black their obvious lust for each other. Their romance continued, as neither woman elderly, lonely widow, it changed into as licorice candy once again. And she implied denial of the burgeoning love said a word to each other about their 24. 25. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Horn - Joseph V. Pali veyor from goddamned Ghent. They “Mr. Balentine. A group of “You speak of relief, Mr. have to know Ituri Forest.” men with the ABIR Company will Balentine. I dare say you should The Horn “Are you talking about a be heading out on an exploratory fathom mine when I heard we finally pygmy?” the official squinted his eyes mission to find rubber deposits in the had an academic as a companion. Joseph V. Pali as he pushed out the sentence, half in Ituri Forest. They’ll be setting up camp These chaps from the low-countries fear of offending Edward, and half in several kilometers down river. That is are all adequate, but do they offer good disbelief. the farthest anyone has gone in. We’ll banter? I would think, not.” Alfred “The Mbuti people are set you up with them and they may be chuckled to himself as he finished his the greatest hope I have of actually able to find you a guide.” sentence. tracking and observing the Okapi.” Edward let out a sigh through “Sir Winchester. It seems The hissing noise of his nostrils while maintaining eye you’re well aware of my reasons for compressed air, squeezing through the contact. Unclenching his fists, he being here. I am a natural scientist, and gullet of a man, desperately stifling a raised his head and departed. He was such expeditions are...well, natural.” laugh, flooded the room. The senior relieved. He abhorred confrontation, Edward released a coy grin. “But official on site, and one less afraid to but had become accustomed to the you’re a man of high standing. What quarrel with Edward, stepped forward, necessity for animalism that was brings you out to the terra incognita?” revealing his office by his demeanour. common with the frontiersmen. The “Ha. Are you inquiring if I “The Mbuti is the negro’s travels to Stanleyville took the rest of am philandering on the flash London negro. Now, Mr. Balentine. I the evening, with only enough time life of fizz and women for a quick understand that you are in a hurry to allotted before the morning departure tryst with an ague? No such luck, follow that animal around, the donkey- to allow for what amounted to an Mr. Balentine. I have no spirit for looking one. I suppose there is some unceremonious nap. adventure. I am simply duty-bound to value in that. What you are asking us A knock disturbed him just this expedition,” Alfred explained. is to hire an animal to find you your as he was about to fall asleep, and he “ABIR is a rubber company, the biggest animal.” quickly rose to his feet. in the Congo some say, and by King “That is not an opinion of the “You have visitors, Mr. Leopold’s request. Hardly gentleman’s Mbuti people that I share.” Balentine,” a member of the staff work,” Edward pondered aloud. “Perhaps we should get you a informed him. “The previous owner of gorilla then?” Nearly a dozen men awaited ABIR, the dearly departed father of “What is your name?” Edward him outside. They were all dressed our fine leadership was a friend of interjected. in brown linens, and armed with mine. The current concession to ABIR “Are you going to inform your revolvers, with the exception of the in the Lomako River has experienced swinging greenery which had just been disturbed by a e stepped forward with the utmost stealth, President of my poor behaviour?” The eldest of the company. He was a stout numerous hindrances. There are fast passing creature. It had eluded him once again. first placingH the ball of his foot down, and then slowly senior official deliberately side-stepped man with a luxuriant moustache reports that following the Aruwimi “A local, damn it. I want a local,” Edward said as resting the heel of his boot. The sodden forest floor muf- the question as he attempted to belittle that resembles two squirrel tails, that River may lead to another collection he returned to the Belgian owned camp, a short distance fled the sounds of the steps into a mild squelch. The fo- Edward in order to maintain authority seemed to have been caught in the of rubber trees, deep in the heart of away from Stanleyville. liage was dense, and the vines plentiful. There was room amongst his own ranks. rain. His hair was graying in patches, darkness.” “Sir, we did provide you with a local, and a trans- to step forward, but everywhere one could step, it would “Why would I go that far? and he was the only man daring “I see. If ABIR were to find it, lator. It was the most we could do,” Edward received as most likely produce a sound. I can simply void the contract I enough to be dressed in gentleman’s His Majesty may be so inclined to offer a response from the only official available to speak with He was too hesitant to move forward, but knew have stowed away with the clerk in attire, even during the winter. a larger portion of North Congo to the him at the government offices. full well that not doing so may make the entire venture Boma, and I believe he’ll have an “I’m Edward Balentine.” company,” Edward said, maintaining He riposted, “Sir, I would be remiss not to re- unworthy. He didn’t panic, instead he took the opportu- interesting account to tell Governor- “Hello, Mr. Balentine. I’m Sir interest simply out of respect. mind you of how handsomely the Imperial Academy nity to weigh his options, figuring none could blame him General Wahis, as to why a lucrative Alfred Winchester. These men are in The pair then purposefully and his Majesty’s government of Belgium have been for doing so, and mean time admired the view from that exploratory mission into the heart of my employ, and it is our pleasure to spoke about trivial matters of mutual remunerated by myself, my associates, and our trustees. distance. There they were; those inimitable stripes. A uncharted territory was abandoned, make your acquaintance,” the sturdy interest. They jointly, albeit silently, You are meant to be our guarantor in this venture. So God given homage to the zebra, perhaps? No, he quickly and diplomatic ties with the United man spoke. came to the conclusion that small talk far, as I am aware, you have done nothing but give us the corrected himself. Noticing that the pattern looked more States and Belgium were strained. “A gentleman and a knight was required to create the idea of a bare minimum. If I am forced to return empty handed, like the glaze over a mille-feuille. Internally congratulat- Why, perhaps even His Majesty, King of OBE? Perhaps my fortunes have bond that would make this expedition the official complaint will have no name in thicker ink ing himself on the clever comparison, he dared to reach Leopold, would get wind of it.” turned,” Mr. Balentine mused. more agreeable. than your own.” for his notebook in order to record the thought. The All present knew better than The pair proceeded towards “Over here, man. Over here!” “How may I help then?” the Belgian official backwards motion caused a few leaves to jostle, and by to make a sound. the caravan, with their Belgian Alfred shouted as he waved at someone asked with renewed interest in Edward’s demands. the time he turned around, all he could see was the still “Your name?” Edward asked entourage picking up the bag in the far distance. He soon clarified, “I require a local guide. Not some rubber sur- once again. containing Mr. Balentine’s belongings. “That is our translator.” 26. 27. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Horn - Joseph V. Pali

A tall and slender fellow, is the unicorn of the dark continent. Edward inquired. by Edward, the gleam of his eyes of Alfred’s eyes as they’d pan him over blue river would appear like a hanging of exceptional physique and dark The sphinx of the sub-Saharan mist.” One of the Belgian soldiers fading in and out with the streaks of in every opportunity, surreptitiously miasma that permeated all manners gleaming skin approached Alfred’s Edward would’ve gone on had Alfred who was riding along the caravan light which penetrated through the surveying him as if to map out his more of life that had flocked towards the retinue. Unlike most of the locals, he not interrupted. understood Edward’s line of inquiry mesh of the carriage’s covering. Musa “African” features. Despite Alfred’s orange-hued banks, which had been wore the same clothing as the rest of “Ah, that donkey-zebra thing and translated it for the rest of the edged himself forward, leaning inward attempt to suppress the habit, he temporarily dyed by the setting sun. ABIR’s men, but he was distinguishably from the newspapers? I’d wagered it crew, who laughed heartily. A roar and propping his chin upward and, in couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable in A single bird had taken interest in a native to the region. His forehead was all tosh and footle!” reverberated throughout the party, that feline pose, his phrenologically the presence of a man whose allegiance the vessel, perhaps lured by the scent and cranium were elongated, making “No, I assure you Sir and the instigator explained the inimitable shape made his body appear was summarily in question. emanating from the opening of the him appear otherworldly. A product Winchester. It is real, and I shall circumstances to Edward. abstract. He mouthed, “I will help The boats were weathered, men’s evening rations. of the Lipombo head binding process capture it alive, if I can.” Alfred shuffled over to Edward traditional to the Mangbetu people The Company made certain to who was seemingly distressed by insults of the North-East. As a group they emblazon on their inventory the seals given to his acquaintance, but had no held very little political sway, even of both the ABIR company and the ability to intervene as per his need of “Are you inquiring if I am regionally, but any European who flag of the Belgian monarchy. Anyone assistance from the mocking crew. came in contact with them would who’d recognize either symbol would “Edward. Edward. The plight never forget the experience. Indeed, know the peril of hostile action. With of the Congolese here is much like that they reported them so often that one that final act, the caravan departed of the negroes in the United States. would think every other man in the north-westward. The trails which Just think my man. This is the order of philandering on the flash Congo was Mangbetu. had been stamped out and gullied, things. Best not to upset the balance.” “Musa. You’re quite late. suddenly became less and less stable, “My grandmother was a Quite. Help the men load the cargo.” and Edward could barely look upward negro,” Edward said in a stifled voice. “The Mangbetu are truly a without experiencing motion sickness. The expression on Alfred’s remarkable people. Have a listen to the “Chew this,” Musa instructed face immediately changed as his eyes London life of fizz and wom- intricacies of their music—” Edward him as he approached amidst the panned over his new colleague and began speaking, but Alfred interrupted. rocking. he began to survey the validity of “We’ll be taking a caravan to Without questioning it, the claim. Edward was of a darker the edge of Aruwimi river’s southern Edward grabbed a clutch of leaves and complexion than most white men, en for a quick tryst with an bank, a boat will be waiting for us, began gnashing down on them with granted, but Alfred had attributed that which we’ll take as deep into the forest such force and resilience that his gums to his propensity for outdoor work. as we can. Once there, we’ll travel a nearly bled. After five minutes of teeth His hair was curly without question, kilometer northward by foot and make grinding, he finally managed to feel but it had fair streaks in it. The more contact with a tribe that may know stabilized enough to converse with his he mulled over the idea, the more he ague? No such luck...I have something,” Alfred delinated. benefactor. saw the artifacts of the man’s ancestry “The Mbuti?” “Thank you, Musa,” Edward protruding through his otherwise white “We were informed that said. edifice. you had some interest in speaking to “You know my name?” “My boy. Please, listen. These no spirit for adventure.” them?” Alfred said, swaying the interest “Ah, yes, but I am still unsure men won’t take so kindly to that fact, of Edward away from his Congolese of how you came into the employment and you’re fortunate it doesn’t show. colleague, and on to the expedition at of this company.” Let’s keep that between us,” Alfred you” with the faintest breath escaping as they had been made of European “Hornbills,” Edward said aloud. hand. “As a young man, I was stolen whispered, hushing his tone with every between the repetitions of the word. design, and the paint had chipped Alfred remained yet interested “Nobody knows the Ituri by the men of Zanzibar and sold into word. He then edged back towards his seat away during last summer’s clammy in what Edward had to say and had Forest better than the Mbuti pygmies, slavery. When I could recite enough “Us and Musa, I suppose,” and rested. heat. It would suffice, at least for a nearly forgotten the previous concerns of all mankind, I think they alone of the Quran, they removed me from Edward said, nodding towards the The remainder of the journey short expedition. All hands, with the he had with his colleague. share a kinship with that forest. The the pits and put a gun in my hand. interloper. seemed to pass Edward by quicker exception of one (a lookout of sorts) Edward continued, “Hornbills Okapi lives there, and I wish to be the When I was captured by the Belgians, “You need not worry. No one than he would’ve anticipated. He boarded the vessel and made their way are found all over Africa. They’re first to document it.” I was only once again pressed into will trust the negro. Look at the bright had sequestered himself within the up the river. Musa was the last to enter hardly rare, but the sight of them “An O-what my good man? Is labor. First they simply had me cut side. In a few generations time, your hermitage of his own mind and, barring as they had tasked him with moving always—” this some American-English word?” down trees, until they saw that I could great-grandchildren will look as white his senses from the appreciation of all of the luggage onto the vessel, with A single shot rang out. The “No, Sir Winchester. It is a speak several languages. Today, I guess as Charlemagne, my good man.” And pain and pleasure, light and darkness, the exception of the firearms, as they hornbill spun in the sky, its wings having creature unique to the forest, which for you could say...I am half-soldier, half- with a pat, Alfred shifted back to where he had lost all track of time. wouldn’t trust him with that. Finally, gone limp and its momentum diverted. centuries, if not millennia, was believed translator,” Musa explained. he had previously been sitting. They had reached the boat. they departed. It fell into the river. The reverberation to be nothing more than a myth. It “When does your work end?” Musa remained transfixed Edward could feel the pressure The vapors from the deep of the applause made the vessel rock, 28. 29. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Horn - Joseph V. Pali and Edward nearly lost his footing as one up close?” protrude outward and awkwardly cover during the violence, confused given a simple instruction: show the pressing his stomach against the he looked backward towards the origin “Why this animal?” Musa wrap themselves around anything they at the sudden eruption of gunfire and white men where the trees bleed white. dead leaves and placing the recently of the shot. One of the company inquired. could. Each step was half a bound, as outpouring of blood. He wouldn’t The company separated into displaced greenery over his back to act men lowered his rifle, giving a playful “They are a gate to the they angled their way through. remain silent after the final bullet had two paths. as a makeshift camouflage. tap over its sight. The men were all impossible. This is proof of legends. The village was within sight, rung. Edward was displeased in Edward didn’t bother himself thoroughly impressed with his shot, It’ll work to show mankind that there is situated on top of a hill, encircled by the “What was the meaning of using a Mbuti that had been pressed with such concerns, instead, he stood with the exception of Edward. no certainty in this world, and wherever trees. The Belgians began commenting that?” he pressed the company. into service by threat of violence, or there, mouth agape, as he stared “Like you said, old chap. it is written, my name will be there.” to Alfred that they were surprised that Alfred, who seemed rather, by an act of violence. He did, outward looking at the sight in front of Hardly rare,” Alfred shrugged as he Musa was mesmerized, only more of the surrounding trees hadn’t unbothered by the events up to that however, have his justification. The him. entered the covered area of the boat. snapping to when he heard the end been felled. It was clear to Edward, point, had a sudden pang of guilt in introduction of the Okapi into public Dozens of Okapi had When the sun finally set, the of Edward’s sentence. He lowered his Alfred, and Musa that no one else in his eyes. thought could inspire a generation of congregated around a rivulet which crew anchored the vessel and lit some head against the wooden deck and the company had ever met a pygmy of The Belgian mercenaries hope, and, as such, could even justify a broke apart from the Aruwimi River. torches. A futile effort, as the moon had closed his eyes. Edward retreated to the the Mbuti tribe. As they approached, began arguing with Edward, and he toll paid in blood. The small, clear stream seemed to nearly waxed full and offered ample safety of the indoors, recognizing the a few of those who had been on the was irate at the exchange. The pygmies They followed a serpentine provide cool and fresh water. Bulls, glow, but the reassurance was worth its gesture to be one of distance. edge of the village alerted the residents who had recently been fettered quickly path with no noticeable landmarks, at mothers and their calves all huddled weight in oil and wood. A sentry was Attempting to sleep had at large, but this was a fatal error. ducked and covered their heads. And least no noticeable ones in Edward’s around the rivulet, lapping it up. posted in front of the sleeping quarters, become an excruciating and laborious It took Musa a moment to rightfully so, for they had just heard the eyes, who could even distinguish Looking upward, Edward noted that and the crew huddled together, with task for Edward. His skin felt like a translate the words he wished to say to white man scream an hour earlier, and between different Ituri flora. the area had been a clearing of some Musa being forced to sleep outside. shawl placed over him, foreign to his in the local Mbuti tongue, in order to thought the consequence to be dire. He made note of the pygmy’s sort, it wasn’t as densely thicketed Edward rested his head body and perpetually discomforting calm the villagers, but his hesitation was Alfred spoke on behalf of his Belgian features. He stood a short distance and the void seemed to allow ample against his knapsack but couldn’t sleep. as such. He shifted and rolled over his deadly. A few members of the company counterparts. above four feet. Perhaps 4’4”? 4’5”? rain water to collect around the rock He dozed off nearly a full hour after own sweat and only managed to find became needlessly intimidated by the “Edward. Edward!” he called He was muscular, not in a bulging way, formations. To the far end, a small everyone else, only to be roused once sleep when he’d exhausted himself in understandable reaction of the Mbuti, out as he shortened the distance but with a fine and noble physique that waterfall poured into the rivulet from again by the belting of the frogs. He the effort. or perhaps they simply wished to avoid between the two. “Do you want to find appeared sculpted when the Mbuti the mouth of a rock ledge, no higher soundlessly got up and crept to the The morning arrived, negotiation. They opened fire. Volleys your creature or not? These men are man would move. The only part than six feet above the ground. There, deck of the vessel. He turned to his left, energizing him with ambition. from their rifle shots rang out as some your best gamble. By the new year, they which protruded as a Westerner’s was the water pooled and webbed outward seeking the sentry in order to allay any The company anchored on were injured, and others killed. may own this damn forest. I’d clasp my a finely rounded pot belly. The pygmy into different directions, most of which concerns, but the lookout had found the northern shore of the Aruwimi It was the apocalypse to the tongue behind my teeth, old chap.” would stare backwards every couple of immediately ceased, save the rivulet. the environment too soporific, and River, and disembarked with enough Mbuti, who saw fair skinned giants Alfred spoke an inconvenient truth. meters, waiting for Edward to catch up A multitude of possibilities, had dozed off. Only Musa remained resources to last them the short voyage emerge from within the heart of Realizing that the “knight” did with him. He moved with ease through a near infinite amount of reasonable awake. through the forest. The Mbuti had a their reality, and use weapons of such speak with a dash of honesty, albeit one the forest, ducking underneath vines, actions flooded his mind, but he was Edward approached him, small village a kilometer inward. Far carnage and superiority that made all veiled in necessity, he opted to remain quickly climbing over bramble and so overwhelmed with the presence of letting out audible signs of his presence enough to be concealed by the treeline, sense of awe awful. quiet. effectively crushing it under his feet. his desire that he couldn’t help but in order to not startle the man, but they and close enough to enjoy the bounty Musa pleaded with them, Edward had expected Musa He’d avoid touching the ground most be brash. He kept edging forward, were all unnecessary. of the river. half in Mangbetu and half in Mbuti, to seem sullen, but his expression did of the time, bounding from one thick half-hunched in a weak attempt for “If you were to leave, I Alfred spoke to Edward during slurring his words as he did his best to not change. He kept trying to catch root to the next, making nearly no furtiveness and silence, and pressed wouldn’t stop you.” the first part of the hike, then Musa appeal to their hope for survival. He glances of the Mangbetu man, but noise in the process. forward one ungainly step at a time. “Go where?” Musa tilted joined the pair in order to explain translated surrender as best he could, soon understood the harsh reality. In comparison, Edward’s With each inch, he could discern a his head, mimicking a European the customs of the Mbuti, and how and, failing that, simply insisted on He’d become far too accustomed to steps were clumsy and cumbersome. new feature of the Okapi. The shine mannerism. he knew that subsect of the Bantu speaking to the chief. unnecessary violence to be bothered Edward’s boots gained little traction on the auburn part of their coat, the “Home.” languages. Alfred found due reason to When the needless carnage by a single instance of it. over the slick surfaces of the wet bark, exact shape of the horns on the top of “Home? The Congo is my converse with anyone else. had ceased, the Mbuti chieftain was The men separated the and his footing was never certain. their skull. home, I have none where I’m from. The Ituri was something that forced to broker for temporary peace. pygmies. Two of them were allotted They traveled for nearly two A crackle. Thwarted. A single My chieftain sold me to the men of Edward was familiar with but, being The Belgians wished to buy some men to the company at large and a single hours, although Edward had expected twig which had been concealed by Zanzibar, after having a fight with my this deep within the dense vegetation, from the pygmies, as their “permanent one was offered to Edward, to act as them to walk for far longer, but to his a collection of different grasses had father. I am too much like you for my even he felt out of his element. He was guides,” but the chief refused, at the his guide. Musa approached the pygmy surprise, the pygmy lifted his hand and been crushed underfoot, and that noise people, and too much like mine for your no more used to this level of life than a request of volunteers who couldn’t counterpart of Edward and inquired if covered his own mouth as he stared at alone made the head of every Okapi people.” sailor would be suited to dive into the bear to see any more of their own he knew where Okapi would graze. All Edward, who understood the gesture to dart erect in a state of alert. “Have you ever seen one?” depths of the oceans. crying over the bodies of their loved Mbuti boys knew where to find Okapi, mean—silence. Edward immediately It took them all a second to Edward interrupted. Dead leaves and branches ones. Of those who volunteered, the and in herds. He was instructed to take went on guard. locate the intruder, and what followed “Seen what?” began mulching into the ground Belgians took three. Edward to the Okapi and back to the The Mbuti man lowered was paramount to a stampede. It “An Okapi, have you ever seen and from within the vines would Edward had only sought boat. The other two pygmies were himself down onto the forest floor, was bedlam as they all leapt in every 30. 31. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Horn - Joseph V. Pali conceivable direction, even towards have the opportunity to run. been so close to setting that only the Edward was interrupted. For the rest of the night, the forest method as to their introduction in to Edward himself. One charged to the Outstretching his hand, he amber glow from its afterimage could Musa looked upward towards remained so silent that it seemed existence. left of Edward in an attempt to avoid moved towards the Okapi, cooing be seen. where a group of the Belgian deprived of life. The two creatures, man and him, but he only managed to get in his comforting words as he placed one foot He wasted no time making mercenaries had been coalescing When morning came Edward Okapi, spent the evening together way. He was charged into, and hurled in front of the other and bridged the preparations for the morning. around the stolen Mbuti men, they had finished packing his belongings before gazing upward to the heavens. The against the ground, sliding backward gap until it was nothing more than an Checking the accuracy of his compass, begun clapping for a hitherto unknown the sun had fully risen, and entered moon had nearly waxed full, it was two and nearly hitting a rock on his journey arm’s length between the two of them. partitioning out enough rations for two reason. The men were screaming the forest without his pygmy guide. He days away from shining as bright as it back down to the earth. He placed his palm on the soon-to-be days away from camp, packing his tent “Lilliputian” and other insults for followed the trails from the previous could that cycle. When he came to again, a mother’s forehead and gently caressed and double checking every completed dwarves as they taunted them with day, and had nearly lost his way a few Suddenly, the creature began moment later, the area had all but her in an attempt to calm the creature action for his peace of mind. There scraps of food, as they motioned that times as he kept replaying the events mewing and heaving. Uncommon, been cleared of every Okapi. Only down. It was all the assurance the was a need within Edward, though. He they must dance for them. The Mbuti from the night before. as most births for such creatures are one remained, lying calmly against the Okapi needed, as they both understood had to discuss what he had experienced were proud and opted to starve instead. He was preoccupied with the a quick affair. Edward immediately As the incentive for locals appeared not horror until he finally reached the lowered his head to observe the to be enough, the Belgians chose for grove. There, by the pond and the birthing canal, and recognised the issue “Edward. Edward. The plight negative reinforcement. One of them waterfall, the Okapi mother remained instantly; it was a breech birth. The removed a rod from the side of his resting, but this time on her back. leg of the calf was sticking out, and holster and began beating the Mbuti Edward forgot immediately about the nothing else. Knowing full well what to men, shouting, “Dance!” Despite mundane aspects of human life, and do in such a circumstance, he cleansed not speaking a word of English or became entranced in what appeared his hands with the hottest water he of the Congolese here is much Belgian, they comprehended. Some supernatural. could bare, hoping to eliminate any things, especially the ones we don’t The Okapi mother at first unknown elements from his skin, and wish to understand, are unfortunately became alerted to the presence of the then plunged both hands into the comprehensible in all forms of intruder, but upon recognising who animal, hoping to shift the calf from expression. it was, lowered her head back down. within. He towed and rotated, then like that of the negroes in the So following the lead of one Breeds like the Okapi didn’t have such shifted and pulled as hard as he could. of the drunken soldiers by dancing, the difficult pregnancies, and it occurred The calf was finally born. most injured one could still barely lift to Edward that something might be Or what would’ve been a calf. his head. wrong with the animal. He couldn’t The creature before his eyes United States. Just think, my The soldier became annoyed at think of any greater gift he could didn’t appear to be an Okapi. Its the harmed Mbuti man’s unwillingness give humanity than bringing another snout was unusually long and its head to partake in the company’s distraction, Okapi into existence. He collected peculiarly thin. The jaw widened as it and informed two of his men to hold water from the pond into a bucket and protruded outward, nearly resembling the Mbuti man down. Edward and began collecting wood from the area in a bill. Its eyes were elongated and oval, man. This is the order of things. Musa, understanding what was about order to start a fire. It was still midday, so that it appeared to have two pupils to happen, attempted to rush to the but he expected that he may be part of per iris. As peculiar as all those features Mbuti man’s aid. When they were the birthing process. Setting his tent up were, they paled in comparison to the within two yards of the group, a few a mere ten feet away from the pregnant most exceptional thing about the calf. Best not to upset the balance.” of the mercenaries said that if the two mother, he awaited dusk. It didn’t have two dull horns on its men interfered, Musa would be next. He plucked different types head, but rather; only a single horn on ground with all four legs underneath that she was now at Edward’s whim. and wished to share it with someone. Hearing this, Edward turned and held of leaves, those whose toxicity he was the center of its head, nearly twice the itself. Edward returned to his feet and After taking a copious amount He bore too much ill will towards Musa in place, so that he wouldn’t familiar with, and brought them to the length of the normal Okapi horn. carefully approached the creature, of notes on the creature and drawing a Alfred to express his joy with him, and share the same fate as the Mbuti man. mother to chew on. She did so willingly. “A unicorn!” Edward but it stared him down without quick sketch with details that no other opted to share it with Musa. The most aggressive of the The Okapi extended her long tongue, exclaimed, knowing full well that his any sign of fleeing regardless of his man on earth would’ve known of the “It was unlike anything I’d mercenaries heated a large carving nearly the length of her entire head, creature was nothing more than a cautiousness. Okapi, Edward returned to where the ever seen,” Edward began his sentence knife over the fire, to the point that around the greens and tugged them deformity to the Okapi. Who would It was a female he could pygmy had remained and gestured as he approached the Mangbetu man. it blazed red hot, and butchered the back in to her mouth. Edward nearly know? Who would know the origin tell, and as he came closer, he could that they should leave. The Mbuti man “You found it?” Musa queried hand off of the Mbuti man. His Mbuti dropped the items on the ground with of the creature? If he were to present see that the creature was pregnant. traced his way backward, and Edward with half-interest. compatriots wept and wailed as they excitement. The nature of the tongue it to the world at large as the only He immediately deduced that it took note of the path he was traversing, “A pregnant one! It’ll have a huddled near one another. It took the of the Okapi showed the plausible living unicorn, most men would be didn’t move because it couldn’t. It committing it to memory on the way calf soon. Very soon. I will be the first mutilated man a full minute to come transmutation of the species from none the wiser. It would captivate must’ve been a particularly laborious back. When the pair reached the boat person to document it! The birth of a back into consciousness, only to release the giraffe or other common animals. the imagination of the world not for pregnancy, and he knew it wouldn’t camp at the river’s edge, the sun had myth. The life of the immeasurable—” a harrowing scream of agony that He’d not only observed the species, decades, but perhaps for well over a seemed impossible for his small frame. but he could theorise a non-theological century. 32. 33. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Horn - Joseph V. Pali The trio spent the evening positions betrayed the fact that they had felling of the trees. The entire trip back to the creature, save one with such deformity, The mother rested next to the together, mother, calf and man, all been tormented prior to their passing. In order to reserve ammunition, encampment, and even on the boat will ever again be able to see. The tomb; she wouldn’t move. curled up within the tent. He rested his “A...a unicorn. I discovered the mercenaries left their guns behind ride back to the river camp, the calf ’s distorted eyes saw every glowing Seeing the result of his actions, head against the chest of the exhausted one in the forest.” and opted to use hatchets, machetes, mercenaries pressed Edward about the star, every galaxy, whose light was or rather, his decision, Edward became mother and slept throughout the Not only did Alfred take and sabers. They ran among the huts exact location of this “unicorn.” Alfred uncontested by those of mankind, as ill and immediately ran from the scene evening with the calf cradled in his great interest in the attestation, of a and spent no time in between insisted on a few different instances, a blend of colours that no other being of his crime. He turned back once he arms. reputable scientist no less, but also so locating a fellow human, and slicing in not to bother the esteemed gentleman could detect. As its mother and its was ten meters away from the grove, to At some point, other Okapi did every one of the Belgian and Anglo to them. They weren’t aiming to kill, as so much, but even Alfred couldn’t hold benefactor slept next to it, it struggled peek one last time at the site, but he emerged from without the grove, but mercenaries (who were just informed they saw their brethren as a resource, so sway to men who had such a valuable to breathe, but it suffered every breath couldn’t see the grove any longer. It upon seeing an intruder, quickly fled of the possibility of a creature’s they decided to brutalise. prize dangled in front of them. through its malformed snout in order seemed as though it had disappeared back into the darkness. The grove was weight in gold). Alfred immediately The men were chased around Knowing full well the to have one more moment to stare up into the thicket. If he hadn’t done it for theirs, and theirs alone. Unknown to understood the mistake that Edward until they were cornered and then intentions of the men, Edward crept at that chaotic, faultless universe. The the sake of the calf, he had done it for the viewing world, and unwanted by had just committed in his enthusiasm. butchered. Their feet, hands, noses, out of the river camp in the middle light of the stars, streaming through a the sake of the Okapi as a whole; he the silent world of shadows, they were He quickly diverted the attention of the or any other extremity was first sliced of the night and dared to traverse the prism, made every agonizing moment knew that the mercenaries would stop truly alone in the bright void. crew, informing them that they had to off, so as to incapacitate the man and forest. Had it not been for the bright worth having. For all three creatures, at nothing to get their bounty. He wept When morning came, Edward rush back to the ABIR concession, so then they were carved into simply for light of the finally full moon, he abominations in their own right, that the entire trek back to the river camp. needed to resupply and opted to head that they would avert their attention. amusement. The women, young and wouldn’t have been able to see a foot rest made the rest of life worth living. The air was thick, and smelled metallic back to camp, leaving the mother and “There has been an issue, old, regardless of age, were dragged in front of him. He stumbled, and fell Edward awoke that morning all of a sudden. Edward took one the calf behind. The “unicorn” could Edward. We will be traveling to the past the village limit and raped by every few meters as he clumsily waded and could hear the calf ’s laboured more deep breath in order to discern barely stand on its own legs, as it didn’t concession for the next few days.” however many men it took to remove through the flora, which may as well breathing. the scent. He recognised it. Blood and seem to be capable of moving much, “But my research...” them from the melee which ensued in have been invisible. Battered, bruised, If he brought it back to camp, waste. Like any other massacre. He so he was fairly certain that they’d be “That can wait!” Alfred said, the village center. scratched, and exhausted; Edward he knew what the men would do to rushed back to the camp, but couldn’t there when he returned. His initial grabbing Edward’s arm in an attempt The company that had been made it to the grove. it. If he left it here, they’d search him believe his eyes. enthusiasm caused him to misdirect to solidify the hint. assigned to Alfred seemed only too The unicorn and its mother out sooner or later. It wouldn’t be long Every member of the himself among the thicket, but after The company traveled back. eager to join in on the slaughter, and were both curled up in front of the before the Ituri would become property company had been lined up next to the taking a moment to calm himself, he They went past Stanleyville and spent no time charging in. pond, they were fast asleep and the of ABIR. The ancient forest reaped for river, their throats slit—that is, with the found his way back onto the path. traveled directly to the most Easterly The carnage was not nearly mother was only roused when she saw its rubber. exception of the very last man, who After three hours of hiking through the outpost in the ABIR concession land, over, as they located where the villagers Edward approach. As he arrived, he Edward created a leash for the had Musa hunched over him. Musa forest, he located the boat-camp which the closer they got to the outpost, the had hidden the children, since a child fell to his knees and wept. calf, padding the rope with a ripped was biting directly into the throat of the had nearly been packed up. more they could see that many of the served no immediate labor purpose, Why couldn’t this be the piece of linen from his shirt. He then incapacitated man and tearing pieces He saw from the distance, rubber trees in the area had been felled. they were all hacked into in cold blood. world? Why couldn’t the world begin took the other end of the leash and of flesh out, chewing slightly, and Musa speaking to Alfred, both of This alarmed Edward, who brought his Fathers and mothers rushed to the aid and end in this perfect little grove, tossed it over a tree branch. Taking spitting out that which he didn’t wish whom seemed to be having an intense worries to Alfred. of their offspring, only to be killed on and every inch of reality that would twenty paces between himself and the to consume. When Edward surveyed conversation. This presented no “The locals,” Alfred whispered, the spot by those who couldn’t quench be constructed past this point would calf, he tugged on the rope with all of the scene once more, he realized every concern to Edward, who bore with him growing ever louder to become audible their bloodthirst. The sight of those derive like branches from this flawless his might, lifting the calf ten feet into man had a bite taken out of him. the news of the century. over the rumble of the caravan. “The innocents, harmed beyond the capacity root of innocence. The mother, for the the air and restricting its airflow. Nodding at Edward, Musa “I did it! I cannot believe I did locals cut down the trees. I believe they of any demon, was more than Edward first time, left the presence of her child Edward hoped it would kill the spoke. it. A unicorn. I discovered a goddamned thought so long as there aren’t rubber could bare. He fainted. and nuzzled Edward, nudging her nose unfortunate creature instantly, but he “Go now. Go to the Unicorn.” unicorn!” trees, there aren’t white men present.” When Edward came to, towards him. He got back on to his feet was met with no such luck. It violently Then, Musa walked through As he approached, he saw that Alfred could barely finish his sentence several hours later, he had already been and approached the deformed calf. By thrashed as its mother rushed towards the treeline and into the forest, all three pygmies had been slain and as they approached screams. The first loaded onto the carriage and they were every standard of truth and existence, Edward. The mother was appealing disappearing from sight. left by the rivers edge, with their heads carriage stopped a quarter kilometer heading back to their encampment the child was an abomination to the for help, as she didn’t understand partially in the water. away from the village. at the edge of the Ituri Forest. He no natural order of things, but every such what was attacking her offspring. She “You did what now, my man?” Edward leapt out of the sooner awoke than he started vomiting perception was removed under the begged, until the calf stopped kicking. Alfred inquired in disbelief. carriage and attempted to look west, profusely, as he had been covered by the glowing light of the moon. Edward gently lowered the calf to the Musa paid no heed to Edward, but he was immediately met with blood of the others when he had been Edward didn’t bother to raise ground, snapping its horn off as proof as he bore no concern for the creatures plumes of easterly traveling smoke. handled back on to the carriage by a tent, instead he fell asleep on the wet of its demise. The mother wouldn’t of myth with three of his countrymen They hung like an unholy fog over the mercenaries who hadn’t bothered ground next to the calf and the mother, leave its side. With his bare hands, face down in the dirt. Edward was taken the village, which had been set ablaze. to wash themselves. Musa had been the three offering each other comfort, he dug as deep as he could into the aback by the sight of the slaughtered Mercenaries of the ABIR company restrained for fear of reprisal, at least warmth and peace. ground, to the point that his knuckles men, whose small frames made them were reaping, raiding, and raping the until he no longer showed signs of That night, the calf stared bled, and he interred the calf within appear like children. Their warped town folk as an act of vengeance for the rebellion. He was too valuable to harm. into the sky and saw what no other the earthen tomb. 34. 35. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Way Things Work - Mary Bunten magnifying lens I wore on a string Vivian’s blue eyes widened. cleavage. Across her chest a banner around my neck to examine things “How’d you do that?” read: “Miss Texas Crown Pageant.” I The Way Things Work up close—my hand, pocked with “Static electricity.” This kind didn’t know what to say. pores, the fibrous paper, the glittering of trick had served me well at my old “I sang “Send in the Clowns” graphite smeared across it. “Amazing,” school. for the talent section. I won second Mary Bunten she said. “What’s your favorite book?” “I think you transferred some runner-up.” “The Way Things Work,” I answered. energy to your hair,” Vivian laughed. “That’s nice,” I said. I hadn’t She looked surprised. “We I wet my hand with ice from even known there were such things. have that. I haven’t read it, though.” my Pepsi and smoothed the long Vivian got up and twirled in The bell rang for lunch. Vivian strands. Things were going well. We the aisle between the tables. When and I went through the cafeteria line took turns scrutinizing a French fry, she sang the lyrics, “Well, maybe next “School was like being trapped in a scene from my magnify- ing glass—aspects of ordinary life assumed extraordinary

was so excited. At my new school, sixth grade proportions, and became gro- doing?” science classI met in a real lab equipped with microscopes, I froze. Bunsen burners and old-fashioned silver scales, the tiny She murmured something to her friend, a slop- weights like graduated gold beads. The metric system! py-looking girl with ink-stained fingers. Soon I would be fluent in the real language of science. Confused, I rinsed off and sat down. My partner’s tesque.” At my old school, the closest we’d come to doing exper- round, pale face beamed sympathy. “I’m Vivian,” she iments was melting crayons on the radiators. Now, my new together. Lunch at my old school had holding the magnifier to our eyes like year,” her voice, sweet and high and whispered. “Is this your first day, too?” teacher handed out mimeographed sheets lined with pur- been watery succotash and pale fish a monocle. Magnified to the twentieth pure, faltered a little as she dipped into Compared to me, Vivian was giant. The wide ple, licorice-smelling instructions. “In order to learn about sticks I washed down with milk. This power, its surface was a landscape of a curtsy. I looked around. The chatter strap of her bra made her back bulge, and she had the fat, the spectrum—you know, Roy G Biv—we’ll deprive bean food was so much better. I loaded canyons and ridges. from the girls at the table in the middle pale legs of a baby doll. A few pale blemishes splotched her plants of different colors of light.” my tray with French fries, Choco- “Wow,” Vivian murmured. of the room had stopped. otherwise porcelain skin; the glossy brown curls cascading She assigned partners, put me with the other new mint cookies, and a Heath ice cream Then she pulled an embossed Vivian smoothed the skirt of down her back showcased a bad case of dandruff. Her girl. We were the only ones wearing our uniform’s regu- bar. The lunchroom was decorated leather scrapbook out of her backpack her uniform. “They probably want to smile was as friendly as a dog’s. I liked her immediately. lation long-sleeved white blouse. The others wore short- with a “Welcome Back” banner and and thumbed to a photograph of a meet me.” For the next half-hour we taped red and blue gels sleeved polo shirts with little alligators over the left breast. balloons scattered across the floor. plump ballerina. “That’s me. Mother The two girls who’d made fun to the sides of glass aquariums where our bean sprouts Eyes followed me as I washed my hands beneath the swan- When I looked through one like a entered me in a junior pageant last of me washing my hands came over would either thrive or die. We were both taking English necked faucet hooked over the sink. Our hands didn’t need lens, its convex side warped my view year.” and told us their names, Maria and in the afternoons. We’d both been salutatorian of our fifth to be sterile to plant bean seeds in potting mix, but I sudsed of the other kids, stretching them so In the picture, Vivian wore a Dot. Maria was lean and rangy, her grades. Vivian played clarinet and took singing lessons. I up with Phisohex anyway, scrubbing each finger like I was they looked like monsters. I rubbed spangled tiara and blue eye shadow breasts two hard knobs beneath her played piano. She didn’t know what she wanted to be when prepping for surgery. it against my hair and stuck it to the smeared up to her eyebrows. Her low- Izod shirt. She had sinister, upturned she grew up. I wanted to be a doctor. I showed her the A tall girl stopped and stared at me. “What are you wall. necked costume revealed inches of eyes. Dot’s stringy, mouse-colored hair 36. 37. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Way Things Work - Mary Bunten kept slipping out of its barrettes. Her onto it for ya.” we’d had recess, but no sports, glass—aspects of ordinary life assumed these. And mice.” a light in the dark. shirt was untucked and her face was The other girls giggled as no structured games, coaches or extraordinary proportions, and became What a life, I thought, to be Vivian smiled, serene. “I’m squashed, like somebody had stepped Dot dodged Vivian’s empty grabs. equipment. Here, the middle school grotesque. My only relief was at home, intentionally starved in the midst of going to play “I’m Always Chasing on it. The edge of her upper lip was Vivian looked like she was about to girls shared the high school’s hockey when I could play with Wiggle. Sure, plenty. The bell rang. I looked up, Rainbows” at my next competition. ragged, like a torn paper bag. cry. I lunged for it too, but Dot was fields, gym and showers. We even had he bit the leash and nipped at my socks, terrified. Lunch was torture time, an “Oh God. Here they come.” I “Vivian, you have such a quick, and passed it to Maria. I looked an archery range. The locker room but he was fun. He had a vertical jump hour of hell. My diet had degraded shrank into my plastic chair. beautiful voice.” Maria smiled without around. Some volunteer moms stood where we changed for PE was a gloomy, of almost a meter, and when he got a to French fries and ice cream, which “Hey lesbos.” Dot flopped opening her lips. near the exit, talking to one another. concrete chamber with a metal grid running start—like when he leaped off I ate at a small table with Vivian and into a seat, knocking over a salt Vivian said, “Thank you. It’s Would nobody help us? covering two large windows of cloudy our second-floor balcony—he sailed others excluded from the popular girls’ shaker. “Gross, Vivian. Don’t you ever part of my act for the pageant.” Finally, the girls moved away glass embedded with chicken wire. like he was flying. He landed on the clique. Dot and Maria interrogated us. shower?” Then she squirted ketchup “Pageant?” Dot grimaced like a school of fish, leaving me and The air was steamy and damp, and azaleas, rolled over, then jumped up What kind of music did we like? What onto the table. “Is that blood? Vivian, like she’d stepped in shit, but Maria Vivian sitting by ourselves. My insides our voices echoed over the drip of the and raced off. radio station did I listen to? What was I are you having your period?” seemed interested. Her eyes narrowed, crinkled and my spit tasted inky. My shower. Lining the walls like cages were “Trouble brewing,” my dad reading? Jane Eyre? Was I kidding? Vivian turned the page. her voice went velvet. “That is so cool life had changed, I could tell. wire baskets where we kept our gym said. Dad used to be a cat person, and Their jeers confused me. I Dot slammed her fist on a that you were in a beauty pageant. Isn’t By the time my carpool clothes, navy shorts and striped shirts. I loved the story about how his mother loved the Bach Inventions I practiced on mustard packet, spraying Vivian’s it, Dot?” dropped me off at home that afternoon, The coaches told us to take them home wrapped the kitty as a Christmas the piano. I’d been praised for loving to music with yellow globules. “Gross, “Um, not really.” Dot bit the the locusts were making their swarming every Friday, but some girls didn’t, and present, and how this cat would meow read. I searched for the adaptation that Vivian hacked a loogie.” skin beside her thumbnail. “I think it’s sound, The Dick Van Dyke Show was the tang of sweaty shorts and socks to be let in his bedroom window after would allow me to flourish. Obviously, Vivian stood. “Wipe that off.” kind of weird.” already on, and it was time to help mingled with the powdery smell of being out on the prowl. One winter my interest in science and school was “I’m not touching your snot.” feed the baby. While I spooned rice aerosol deodorant. The coaches’ office she disappeared, and the next spring all wrong. My classmates didn’t want Vivian trembled, her eyes Maria’s voice hardened. “No, it is cool, cereal into my brother’s mouth, our was behind a two-way mirror that they’d found her body in a trunk in the to know the difference between ice shiny. “Why do you torture me?” Dot. Really. Vivian, can we look at puppy, Wiggle, squirmed into my lap. looked out at the changing area. garage. The sides and top were carved cream and frozen yogurt. In fact, just Dot’s laughter made Vivian’s your pictures?” My mother told me how Wiggle had We undressed in the open. I with scratches. At night, Wiggle slept knowing about the existence of yogurt tears spill over. She fled. I found her “Sure. Take a look.” Smiling, broken another window while I was at could feel everyone watching me. I cozily beside me on the bed. cultures put me on par with the germs. in the school’s bomb shelter, a closet- Vivian handed her scrapbook over. school. He’d seen a squirrel in the front slipped my shorts on beneath my skirt, After the bean plants died, For them, ignorance of such matters sized bunker stocked with ancient “You are so lucky you got to yard and thrown himself against the but there was no way to avoid removing our science class moved on to our was a source of pride. In class, I shut saltine crackers and bottles of water. do that,” Maria cooed. “Hey, y’all. glass, shattering it. This happened so my blouse. I glanced around. I was the next experiment, about nutrition. We up, stopped raising my hand to answer “Why do they hate me?” she Come look at Vivian’s beauty pageant frequently, she kept a stack of panes in only girl not wearing a bra. deprived lab rats of essential vitamins questions. Soon I stopped knowing the sobbed into her elbow. photos.” the hall closet. Wiggle was constantly I pulled on my t-shirt as fast and observed their decline. At first, answers. I sat down next to her. I knew More girls clustered around escaping, squeezing past our ankles as I could, and ran into the bright the rats were glossy and playful. Mine, Vivian remained impervious why, or at least, I thought I did. Her our table. Vivian cheerfully explained to slip through open doors, leaping gym. The slap of bouncing balls named Ralph, was in the control to pressure. At lunch, she told me, “I’ve dark hair set off her bad dandruff like that the Miss Texas Crown competition up and clambering over the chain- reverberated off the walls. Coach group. His blue food contained all been reading that book you like, The black velvet. Sometimes the flakes were had been held for twenty years, since link fence in the driveway. Usually we called, “Line up for bombardment,” a the necessary vitamins. He liked to Way Things Work. Did you read the as big as my fingernails. 1957. kept him tethered on a leash in the game I’d never heard of. Vivian stood scramble up my arms and sit on my chapter on nuclear energy?” I stared at the radiation Dot spit out a grain of flesh. backyard. We worried he’d be hit by a at the end of a line of girls. As I walked shoulders, his white whiskers tickling I shook my head. Around the shower. I knew I was supposed to “Hey—do you think I could be a car. towards her, a whistle blew and Maria my ear. Vivian’s group fed their rat, time school started, I’d gotten bogged soothe her. Instead, I asked, why didn’t contestant?” At dinner, Dad asked if I’d rushed forward and hurled a ball at Robert Redford, red food. It lacked the down in Chapter Six, thermodynamics. she wash her hair more? Use Head Vivian’s smile ceased. The made any new friends. “One,” I said, me. It struck my thigh like a bullet. essentials. While Ralph grew sleek and Since then I’d been puzzling over how & Shoulders? She confided that she enthusiasm in her eyes drained away, and I told him about Vivian. “You’re out,” the coach yelled. fat, Robert Redford remained scrawny to solve my Dot and Maria problem, so washed it on Sunday nights, but that and a new emotion replaced it. “What does her father do?” he Confused, I limped to the sidelines, and weak-looking. He ate the same questions like, “If you put cold water during the week her mother sprinkled “Maybe.” asked. but Maria hurled another ball at me, amount, but he was starving. At first into a blender for several minutes the talcum powder on her scalp to absorb Cut your losses, I prayed. Put I didn’t know. I started to tell striking my shoulder. Dot joined her, he liked to play, but soon he became water will become warm. Where does the oil. the photos away. him about Maria and Dot, but in the pelting me with missiles. This was a listless and slow. Vivian cradled him the additional energy come from?” “Why just on Sunday? I wash Dot said, “Because I’d really kitchen Wiggle jumped on the counter game? I fled down the corridor to the in the crook of her elbow, stroking his seemed irrelevant. Who cared? The my hair every other day,” I said. like to, you know, be in a pageant.” and seized the margarine tub. The locker room, but they pursued, still dingy fur. “Want to hold him?” universe is cold. Like I didn’t know “It’s so much trouble,” she “I could get you the entry form baby began to cry. Mom started yelling throwing. I didn’t. “He looks sick.” already. said. “It’s so long and thick, and it takes if you’d like.” Vivian reached for her at me to catch the dog, and I chased The coach called, “Not above Vivian laughed. “You can’t After she finished eating, forever to dry.” picture. him around the dining room, grabbing the waist, Maria.” catch it.” Vivian spread some sheet music on The art teacher’s yellow tabby Dot yanked it away. “I’ll keep but missing. He’d jump out of reach The next day, purple-ringed, My heart tightened. I had a the table and began fingering a ghost climbed onto Vivian’s lap. She caressed this, if you don’t mind.” and stand a little ways off, wagging yellow bruises splotched my thighs. superstitious feeling that I must never, clarinet. its ears. “The fact that you’re my friend Vivian stretched out her his tail. By the time I caught him, he’d Weeks passed. Nothing never touch that rat. “What are you doing?” I just makes it worse for you.” hands. “Please, give that back!” eaten all the butter. changed. School was like being She stroked its tiny head. “My looked around. Sheet music would I didn’t say anything, but this Dot laughed. “Let me hang At my old elementary school, trapped in a scene from my magnifying brother’s boa constrictor eats rats like draw their attention like switching on was true. I stared at the wall. Inky 38. 39. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Way Things Work - Mary Bunten black mildew grew on the louvers of disgusting mildew. We looked strange. Several girls turned to watch. called. Full of spite, I opened it— but gathered him in her arms and Her face froze. She swallowed. the air conditioning vents. I’d been so “Here.” Vivian handed me “Give it back!” I shouted and lunged not wide open, but wide enough for rested her cheek on his head. “You don’t?” excited that my new school had air back the lens. for my towel, but Dot hopped out of a person to step through. Wiggle “I wish I could help you,” she “No. Go sit with someone conditioning. Now I remembered my I gave it back. “Why don’t you reach. I gave up, tried to cover myself leaped out and ran away. Grabbing sighed. She was helping. I felt better. else.” old school as paradise, missed even the keep it for a while?” with my arms. The bell rang, and the waistband of my borrowed skirt, “I’ve got to get him to bed.” She stood. Vivian slumped. swampy heat and the desks so deeply Black mildew also speckled the Dot dropped my towel on the bench. I chased him into the neighbor’s yard, “Why is Vivian your friend, anyway? “Go on.” rutted with holes and carved names ceiling of the shower in the girls’ locker Everyone left. where some children were playing. She sounds strange.” She stacked her books and that my pens poked holes in my papers. room. It was terrible, showering next The wire grid over the windows My mother came running after me, She left me sitting on the floor. carried them to an empty seat in the I’d used slate tiles that fell off the roof to other girls without their clothes on, cast a criss-cross pattern of shadows on carrying my baby brother. I scrutinized myself in the full-length row behind me. I felt her there, and as chalkboards for my dolls. trying not to look at their naked bodies. the floor. I wrapped my towel around When I caught up to him, mirror on the back of the door. I was the eyes of the others, watching. I “Look at those black Streams of suds slimed past my feet my body and sat on the bench. What Wiggle wagged his tail so hard it pulled changing. I could wear a bra now. My looked at the blackboard. My heart splotches,” Vivian said. “Should we get and puddled around drains clogged should I do? Where were my clothes? his body into a crescent. hips flared, and my long, thin legs burned like a cinder. “Watch our game,” I said to reminded me of a gazelle. I could see This simple act blasted me the neighbor girls. I jumped and he what kind of woman I would become. into a new life. Within a month, I “...whenever I hear about ma- sprang away, then froze, quivering with I resembled my mother. was invited to a slumber party where, excitement. I jumped again. He leaped I was determined not to instead of sleeping, I stayed up all into the street. At that moment, Mrs. endure another wretched year. No one night, stole the girls’ bras and froze Fitzgerald, a neighbor, was driving by would save me: I had to save myself. them in Dixie Cups. I moved to the in her station wagon. Its huge black tire Over the summer, I listened to Top table in the middle of the lunchroom. licious acts, even the really ter- rolled over Wiggle’s head. I screamed, 40 radio like I was studying a subject I brought home my first C. Vivian was and Mrs. Fitzgerald stopped the car. for school, memorizing the names easy to avoid. I was terrified of her The little dog was kicking, struggling of performers. I practiced using unpopularity rubbing off on me, or to get back on its feet, as if its head obscenity. maybe of something else. rible ones on TV, I understand were held down loosely by someone’s When seventh grade started, The next year, Vivian changed teasing hand instead of by the weight I was surprised to be looking down schools. I lost track of her. My high of a car. on parts in the hair of the new sixth school experience was normal and “Back up!” I cried. The car graders. When poor Will struggled mediocre. I wish I could say that I slowly inched backward, crushing past me, carrying an armload of found subsequent social triumphs that the capacity for cruelty is Wiggle’s head even more firmly. There books and folders, I crashed into him, unsatisfying, that I was tormented by was a soft little explosion of scarlet obviously on purpose, and his papers remorse, but I wasn’t. brains against the black asphalt. The scattered everywhere. But I wonder how I could dog’s little furry feet were still kicking. “Will! You fucking idiot!” have done things differently. Instead He was still trying to get up. Dot’s head popped out from I lost them both, lost myself. Now, not something other people I kept screaming. Wiggle was behind her locker door. whenever I hear about malicious acts, still moving, still alive. My mother I floated through the day, even the really terrible ones on TV, came up beside me and put her hand nervous about what was coming. I I understand that the capacity for on my shoulder. “He’s dead,” she didn’t see Vivian until our last class. cruelty is not something other people have and I do not.” whispered. “Take the baby. Go inside.” She sat beside me, and squeezed my have and I do not. Later she scooped the little body into a hand hello. Unchanged, she still wore With that realization, the door a close-up?” with hair. The door to the office opened and the trash bag. her black hair in a greasy ponytail. Her closes forever on childhood with its I pulled out my magnifying When I’d finished, I wrapped two coaches stepped out. They glanced That night she comforted me homely little face smiled. My impulse games and toys and stupid dreams. glass. Magnified twenty times, the myself in my towel and returned to at me, then walked towards the exit. As as best she could. It wasn’t my fault, was to smile back, but everyone was mildew was a forest of filaments, like the bench where I’d left my basket of they left, one hit the lights. she assured me. All I’d done was open watching. nothing I’d ever seen before. clothes. It was gone. Dot and Maria I sat there until two older a door. “We did our best to take care She said, “I brought you “Fascinating,” Vivian said. sat across the room, watching. “Lose girls came in to change for volleyball of him,” she soothed. “You can’t this peacock feather from my I agreed, but the mildew something?” Dot called. practice and found me. The clothes always control who gets hurt.” grandmother’s house. Look at it close wasn’t only fascinating. It was scary, All around me, girls were they lent me were too big. I felt like a After I emptied out my grief, up—it’s really amazing. I talked Mr. like looking at a disease. Suddenly I getting dressed, blowing their hair dry, clown. I missed my carpool, and had to I told her everything about Vivian, Smith into letting us sit in on his high realized how we’d look if someone putting on makeup. The door to the wait out front for my mother to come Dot and Maria. I described the knot school science lab third period. You came into the shelter right now, the two coaches’ office was closed. I started pick me up. When we finally got home, of pain I always felt beneath my chest. want to?” of us hunched over the vent, our noses towards it. Dot ran up and yanked my I opened the back door a narrow crack. She listened to it all, and didn’t cut me This was my moment. I millimeters away from black globs of towel away. “Look!” she shouted. “Watch out,” my mother off when the baby started whimpering, couldn’t afford to screw up. “No.” 40. 41. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel Chapter 32: Prunes & Poetry Leanne Grabel

I had to see for myself and started driving. I drove into and around the small town of Manson, WA (yes, the name was foreboding), until I saw Thomas’ pickup in front of a small gray house. I walked up to the house and Thomas opened the door. A tall, trim, mousy woman with acne-scarred skin stood behind him. Thomas looked like a ten-year- old boy caught looking at Playboy. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s Jesus’ will,” Nan repeated. I said nothing. I turned around and got in my car. I had a strong craving for prunes. I come to wheel ruts, and water I stopped at a store on the way out of town and bought a family-sized box of Del Montes. Limpid as the solitudes They were fresh and soft. And as I drove through those dry hills away from perhaps my That flee through my fingers. most misguided diversion ever, I gulped and chewed and burped and emitted enormous Hollow doorsteps go from grass to grass atmospheres of gas. ...Black stone, black stone. And I started to feel way better. The magnificent Columbia River Gorge twined to Sylvia Plath my left like a furrow of wise consideration. To my right, the belly of green. 42. 43. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel Chapter 33: Again With the Poetry Leanne Grabel

I fell in love—at once, and am still at There was a Tuesday poetry open mic at a tavern called the Parthenon on West Burnsot, the mercy of words . . . There they were, a street dank and enflamed with the hiss and spank of life. Burnsot divided Portland into its seemingly lifeless, made only of black and north and south halves. The Willachapee River divided its East and West. white, but out of them, out of their own It was Tuesday. I drove to the reading. I was making full swings—from bad boyfriend to being, came love and terror and pity and pain poetry to bad boyfriend to poetry. It was a wide and graceless arc. and wonder . . . Dylan Thomas 44. 45. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel

I had just started teaching Office English in a business college. My students were wom- en who had way worse boyfriends than me. In fact, their bad boyfriends made my bad boy- friends look like good boyfriends. My students had lots of babies. And now they were trying to My eyes were drawn to a group of dark men with dark moustaches at one end of the swim out of the rancid pudding of their lives. I was teaching them how to spell “sincerely” and long bar near the door to the kitchen. They were drinking red wine and laughing loudly with “receipt.” The alphabet and the keyboard. the bartender. They kept bumping into each other, like bear cubs, all hairy and chesty and They moved me. I wrote poems about them. I wanted to read them. round-bellied. I was scared walking into the Parthenon that Tuesday. The place was packed. Then I I wanted to get closer, but I was afraid to walk across the room. Desire finally won out, saw Gil, my boyfriend for two days a couple years before. I was glad to see Gil. He gave me and I glided over, trying to be as beautiful, thin and quiet as I could be. For a split second, I an instant direction through this crowded room of scary strangers. I saw a few familiar poets looked up into the face of the bartender as I ordered a Corona. A gash of light darted from his clustered way in the back, paddling through puddles of discontent. eyes, black like olives, right into mine. Mystified, I twisted my head around in every direction, looking for the light source.

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Then my name was called. I managed to walk onto the stage without clumsiness. I started reading one of the new poems about my students. “Who’s that???” I asked Gil when I got back to the booth. “Bacchus.” This lovely brave mother I couldn’t stop staring at him. Even the tilt of his head attracted me—such an ancient so young and so laden and melancholic tilt. Such a proud chest. And graceful hands. He was fabulous. her future etched in by her men And he was wearing a red beret. Oh my god. What a detail. A foreign revolutionary. fat men stuffed on large failures Hands down, the most attractive man I’d seen in years. their thickly-haired hands more like clumsy brute paws pawing daughters so tiny and gleaming their smooth skin the last ray of freshness and hope. 48. 49. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel

I saw Bacchus watching me from behind the bar. My voice quivered. I finished the poems And I noticed his skin color was exactly the same skin color as mine. and went over to the bar to order another beer. I couldn’t look up. I stared at Bacchus’ hands. Finally, I looked up at his face, full-on, to thank him for the beer. As he held my hand for a They were unexpectedly beautiful. He had long, tapered fingers, and smooth, well-shaped nails second while giving me change, I dove somewhere. As he lay his black eyes on mine, I dove into a that had a luster, as if manicured. cave. I went missing—for over two years—again. It happened that fast. And Bacchus was wearing a silver wristwatch just like the one my Poppy used to wear. It had an elasticized metal band. He kept taking it off and stretching it out and twisting it around. He kept putting it on and taking it off. I kept staring at his hands.

50. 51. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel Chapter 34: Swan Diving Into Hell Leanne Grabel

I went to the Parthenon every Tuesday. I stayed with a handful of poets (and Bac- chus) past closing time. Often, I went to my teaching job the next morning after one or two hours of sleep. Never allow someone to be your priority I was obsessed with Bacchus. I loved how he looked, talked and moved. I loved his while allowing yourself to be arm hair, his skin color, his chest, his shirts, the ways his jeans hung, his laugh, his teeth, their option. his knuckles, his wrists, his thumb, his watch and his vocabulary. He was all I could think Mark Twain about. Then one night, Bacchus and I had lousy, distracted sexual intercourse on the dirty, tavern floor—as if it were a requirement. It was two months later. I wore my best outfit. A polished cotton tango skirt the color of persimmons. A turquoise Chinese blouse with frog buttons. My Stockton platform boots. It was my best outfit ever (and the worst floor).

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The next day, while walking home from work, I ran into a four-foot granite obelisk, “Ooh, so wet and soft, baby.” He’d say stuff like that. And our faces melded into nose first. I didn’t even see it. I was thinking about Bacchus. BONK. That bonk altered each other. It was sizzling. the shape of my consciousness, and re-shaped my nose. One night I inadvertently heard somebody say what a great couple Bacchus and Within a month, I had moved into a bleak studio apartment that smelled like hot his wife were. And how beautiful she was (I knew he was married. It meant nothing. My tar and looked out on a parking lot because it was only four blocks from the Parthenon. obsession so overpowered my sense of propriety or rationality). When I heard this about Bacchus came over every night after locking up his tavern at three in the morning. We’d his wife, however, I began to cry, then sob. I sobbed and whimpered for hours. I made sit in his Volvo, me on his lap, legs wrapped around. We’d kiss. And caress. He’d whisper sounds I’d never made before in my life. I put my face into the bowl of my hands, and sexy things in my ears about desire and wetness. nearly drowned in the pond of my tears. And then I wrote poems that bled all over ev- erything.

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“Why are you weeping, baby?” Bacchus asked. I shed gallons of, gallons of tears. I wrote longitudes of sodden poems, spilling the still “Because Hanna saw your wife the other night and she said she was beautiful. And innocent juices of my heart all over the damn gravel. how happy you two looked. You didn’t say she was beautiful.” After two years, finally, I had to give. I gave. I couldn’t take it anymore. No more. “It’s you I love,” he said. “You’re my love. I love you, baby.” And then he kissed me, THERE WAS TOO MUCH HEARTACHE. cupped me, made me wet and ready, made me. Then he went home to his beautiful wife. One night near the end, Bacchus finally got to spend the whole night with me—the first time in two years. His wife was overseas. He came over. We ate dinner. We drank wine. We went to bed. But after an hour, he got up and told me my pillow smelled. His eyes were flat and mean. He walked out my front door. Cold. I begged him to stay, wearing my sheet. I felt like my rib cage cracked. 56. And that was that. 57. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel Chapter 35: California For A Minute

At four in the morning, a couple weeks later, I got in my Special Edition Renault Le Car and drove south to Stockton—away from Bacchus forever. I cried the entire eleven hours down, even when I stopped for a Spanish omelette in Shasta City. . . . stretched out ahead of us the I wept openly several times a day for at least a week. My mother, who hadn’t wept in de- fabulous white city of San Francisco cades, didn’t say a word. Normally she would have told me to buck up and button it--basically. on her eleven mystic hills with the But with this kind of utter heartbreak level of sadness, she lightened up, seemed to recognize blue Pacific and its advancing wall something, let me shed my gallons of tears. And so did my father. of potato-patch fog beyond . . . Jack Kerouac

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My grandmother, Nanny, was dying in a crappy convalescent hospital in Stockton. She

I decided to move to San Francisco and substitute teach. I rented a room in a big house was under-insured and over-medicated. She was lying in a skinny bed in a row of skinny beds out on the Avenues. One morning, while I was subbing at a high school in the Mission District, filled with others who were under-insured and over-medicated. a busty, Hispanic girl with anarchic orange hair as large as a moon, and no eyebrows, picked up Every morning my mother and I sat at the edge of Nanny’s bed, petting her hair and her her chair and threw it at me. I was just sitting at the teacher’s desk in the front of the room read- arms. Nanny’s skin was mottled and loose. We sat frozen, trying not to slip into the gully just this ing the sub notes. It was ten minutes into Period 1. Then another girl jumped out of the window, side of unbearable grief (at least, that’s what I was trying not to do.) while the entire class started laughing uproariously. “Mother, we’re here. Mom, we’re here.” My mother always said this. Ohmyfuckinggod! That’s what I said, tears bubbling to my eyes and beginnig to fall. Every- I just grabbed onto Nanny’s still fleshy fingers that looked like a-little-bloated versions of one continued to laugh, and then looked at me expectantly. mine. I called the office and told them I was leaving. I turned and said,Fuck you! at the door. And “Nanny, I’m here.” I barely put a toe into the lagoon. I walked, shedding every stitch of teacher gear along the way. Then she died. One day Nanny just died. I wasn’t there. I was back in San Francisco, I headed back to Stockton. moving out of my rental. I felt it. The last time I saw Nanny, the skin on her arm felt so velvety, I thought of pussy willows. 60. 61. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel

The Jewish cemetery in Stockton is in a sorry-looking field in the sorry-looking outskirts Bacchus called three months later. I was still in Stockton—now subbing in a suburban of Stockton, where only trucks and train cars live, along with a few loose roosters and bony elementary school. Every minute of those three months, I hoped Bacchus would call, and beg cats. me to return. I expected it. I couldn’t live without him and thought he couldn’t live without me. When the pallbearers picked up Nanny’s pewter coffin, draped in chesty pink roses, and That’s what he said. That’s what I believed. the men began muttering the Kaddish, I cried so hard, no matter how hard I tried to gird my When he called, he barked like a seal. “Baby, I miss you.” I kept the phone to my ear heart, its juices just kept gushing. Like a geyser. without speaking. “I’m sorry,” the rabbi whispered in my ear after the service, offering me a plastic pouch “I fuckeen meese you, baby!” he screamed. His accent was thick. “I meese you. I fuck- of tissues. een meese you.” “Do you have allergies?” “I might come back,” I said. I couldn’t believe what a stupid question that was. There was a long, long, long beat of silence. “I might see you soon,” I said. He hung up.

62. 63. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel

In two days, I was driving back to Portland, back to Bacchus. I drove to Portland in record time, and went right over to Bacchus’ new nightclub. My I felt frantic. heart was literally thumping when I saw his red Volvo in front of the club. I rushed in, expecting “He was supposed to meet me here. Did he say anything to you?” him to be right near the door, there to hug me and welcome me. I expected the moment of a I went to my friend Molly’s and waited for Bacchus to call. I thought he would call any lifetime. minute. I waited for two days. He never called. I tried to find him a couple more times, but he But I didn’t see him. I looked everywhere, even the men’s room. was never there. “Where’s Bacchus?” Every bit of me ached. My appendix ached, my spleen. My ganglia ached. “I don’t know,” said the man behind the bar. A few days later, I ran into a friend who happened to mention that a good friend of hers “His car’s here. Where is he?” had been having an affair with Bacchus for the past two years, too (I went blind). “I don’t know, Honey.”

64. 65. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Brontosaurus - Leanne Grabel

Heart shattered, I wrote a note to Bacchus. I fretted about the line breaks and wording And like magic, the following week, everything Bacchus had ever given to me disap- for three hours. I ended up with: peared. His purple tie-dyed t-shirt, his yellow sleeveless t-shirt, the silver cigarette case, the leath- You’re a Greek slut. er jacket, the Stevie Wonder album. They all disappeared. Poof. They just disappeared into You could have been so much more. thin air. But all you are is a Greek slut. I drove down to Bacchus’ tavern and gave the note to the man at the door. That was it. That was totally it.

66. 67. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Sub-Divinity Donna Dallas

There’s that festering thing that little regret / some little angst can’t put my finger on it yet it’s always with me some form of Satan under my collar pressed against my bone at the base of my neck like a mole or a tag when magnified one thousand times it’s a brutally ugly and distorted face I carry cells that date back to the cross (did I throw stones??…..) to a night in the desert when I caved and I can’t shake the enormous burden of paying the piper I could end it you know………..why keep going when it’s all Satan-bound anyhow I will end up there again it’s like a calling try to resurrect my blackened heart reshape it into a more compassionate heart—with honor and patience…….sounds boring as Satan laughs but my torn soul is tired POETRY temptation feels hauntingly played I think I want a new skin—I want to peel back my forehead reprogram a thousand years of whoring go home and bake a pie wring my sickness into that pie like Stephen King’s Thinner—let someone else eat it and they in turn take on these burdens while I stroll away scot-free into the desert this time an angel

68. 69. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Yeah But How ‘Bout a Napkin?... Zoning Donna Dallas Donna Dallas

I resurrect deceased thoughts When I had the crow I wanted the swan They creep back through a gap in my when I had the swan I wanted the flamingo (semi) conscious—floating – bubbly—brain on pills when you said you lived and died for me was that air evaporates into dust……in my head just a blanket to warm me when I shivered into a death watching you exit…… emptiness way back when you opened the car door just for me ……or loneliness I thought wow what a gent! we sat in the coffee shop for five hours I begged you with my guts I’m overthrown no glimmers of hope here on the table in this dark mind between these soft wrenched into a ball thighs you played putty and rolled them along the table staring lies the kiss of madness—the DNA of broken egos icy dusted along creamy skin I just wanted a napkin……..I really just wanted your hand to touch mine I wanted a walk on our beach in the nude like we did in our lives past under the North Star the coffee was cold and you could not for the life of us understand all I wanted was a napkin to dry my tear-strewn face

70. 71. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 In My Realm Sylvia’s Son Juanita Rey Layla Lenhardt Some are muscle-bound, some are thin as lilac trunks. I was wrapped in a bad dream like a towel, And there are the tall who tower over the ones five-foot-four or so. wet feet on linoleum. I was too preoccupied to see Black hair, brown, even a few reds and blonds the cracked blood, to hear the silence until I was knee- though these last two have yet to enter my immediate circle. deep in your tomb. But there’s this bald guy…well that’s another story. Sometimes, I dreamt you were a baby being born, Same as tattoos. One or two is okay. waking to a pain that was not yours, a motherhood But I’d rather the tongue tell a man’s tale and not his skin. I never had. It was always the same, the air was metallic Some chatter all the time like they say women do. when I woke up. You were there, sleeping slack-jawed like a Others keep their thoughts to themselves and their words follow. skeleton on my makeshift mattress, I’ve known happy ones, sorrowful, the solitary, for what would be the last time. and those who, minus a crowd, are minus everything. I didn’t know there was something insidious living in your ribcage, And even the ones so easily typecast quietly sifting through the cracks, waiting for spring so it could spring. can surprise me from time to time. I still wake up screaming, The joker goes sullen. The gentle poet spits fury. “please crawl into my mouth, you can make a home in there!” At times, I’m with so many. At others, none at all. I saved your beard shavings in a porcelain egg, I no longer call my Most can go their own way without me trying to stop them. mother. The tin can on the other end of the string is silent and rusted. I put crystals But an occasional one is preferred. everywhere to try to see your fleeting reflection, to know that I’m capable of remembering more than the warmth of your blood on my hands.

72. 73. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 I Feel Threatened Why Do Snapchats Disappear? Alan Elyshevitz Janna Grace

by egg yolks and the administers of anything intravenous And why do videos of flour being smoothed I feel threatened by the assortment of militant weeds in June and colored sand poked by microscopic organisms deep inside secretive yogurt soothe us? by the blinkless indifference of fish in their natural habitat Do they tell us what we used to do I feel threatened by the creamy river curdling past an old sawmill before we watched? I feel threatened by traffic lights gone dark in a darkness scented with lightning by ice flattened into crouching murderers of automobiles Kids these days are having sex by commuter trains with muscular ankles able to jump much less I feel threatened by contemporary music underpinned by tubfuls of bass notes but there’s so much more to view. by debuts of online networks subsuming the quiet voltage of night They do less drugs too by magazines trilling their sympathy for metrosexuals why I feel threatened by children divided by chickenpox did we want them more, and by academic transcripts from a school burned down in 1968 do they need them less? I feel threatened by Canadian coins in undiscriminating pockets and by the signatures of those who offer dubious rates of exchange Does watching celebrities make waffles I feel threatened by sarcasm in the Atlas Mountains or buy Girl Scout cookies with dog ears by trailer parks on continents with amorphous borders transposed on their faces make them more by counterintelligence implying an ensemble of rival intelligence real? I feel threatened by co-workers cut off at the eyebrows in company photographs Us less? (Should we just add another “e”?) I feel threatened by the Heisenberg uncertainty of lovers neither here nor there These questions make me feel stupid by girls in pink I can’t tell apart by older by younger women because when everyone knows the answer or can find it by never and forever by him by her by them by you in a second’s search— who gets credit for asking?

When I was a child I used to wonder how they built bridges. What did they do when they made it halfway, across the water?

Is there a moment when you are hanging closer to the other side, too committed to get back to your start? Do you keep adding the pieces, anyway or do stilts hold you up the entire distance so you can kick them out when you reach the other side?

I think now I would rather floating bridges, stretching, like giant lily pads across the amazon river. Their roots might clasp beneath in the murk like thousands of thin-necked dragons now and then, but their faces shine over the surface and can support the weight of a child 74. on their own. 75. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 City of Palls Woman With Drawers Bojana Stojcic Thomas Wells

From dense sleep we emerge. court is now in session Realizing our coat, (typewriter clacking) we seek to cast off this Nessus. will the accused please stand We drank the Jonestown Kool-Aid and now it’s too late. you have been charged with first-degree murder cold-bloodedly killing the meaning of life We never noticed the circling death by strangulation according to the report vultures despotic descent on the capital. (dings) We never contested the contagion, the invective infections of the tyrant. your honor, may i approach the bench? (nodding) Everywhere we witness the carnage, the flyblown bodies we covered, you see, i have been collecting shadows the reeking pestilence of our infiltrated discourse, like dead starfish washed ashore the spewing sewers of vituperation. for as long as i can remember i tried to close the door, i swear, but they shoved their way While all the sinkholes break open in, wrapped both hands around my neck, and squeezed our dual justice system a slapstick, told me how easy it would be, then let go our public coffers are looted, our privatized schools divested. (scoffs) imagine a convenience store feeling bad for Trauma’s children seek asylum in cages. getting broken into Trauma’s vigilantes terrorize our borders. now we live side by side, my shadows and i This is the moribund city of rot. i watch them following sunsets This is the counterfeit city of lies. moving at a crawl across my walls This is our cloaked city my ceilings and my floors casted by an infantile overlord. i would if i could (they know that) but This is our tomb city of palls. my razor blades went blunt so we chase each other shadowed by pity and self-doubt lying how sorry we are for turning into a fastidiously selected sequence of movements and speech patterns a twisted waltz of remorse and denial choking arteries with its stalled traffic

consuming only easily digestible foods and beating ourselves up over every indulgent slip-up we share a home to escape aging alone, all alone because a convenient time to see the world turned into a convenient excuse sweet turned into too salty into too fatty and spicy into too bitter each slice of joy is smeared thick with moral culpability every smile is a poison pill we lick voraciously before crushing it with teeth and letting it dissolve in stomach 76. 77. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18

please return to your seat how do you plead? Between Body and Breath (door opens, closes) Syed Zaman Guilty, your honor You. You’re a hole in my life— Of accumulated impressions, Inaccurate adjustments, and heavy Layers of perturbed poetry and Perforated paintings— Seldom straightforward landscapes— Rather—bodily dimensions That capture and hold monochromatic Fields interrupted by blocks of neutral Tones, geometric volumes of coarse Interventions—punctuated by Streaks and strokes of Traced tender touches— Tantamount to watercolors being Applied on a sheet of Fabriano through the Translucency of mylar with the Soft bristles of a sumi Brush—unlike the exploitative edges Of graphite— Parallel to the crossings of Your fingers, drawing texts into Textures, transcribing music Across my torso. You—a secret immersed in darkness— A stanza broken out of context— Bending and unfolding a Crescendo of breaths—their Multi-dimensional potential— Effacing—their original form Frozen in white flames—a Constellation of active sensuality— The predilection of pure and boundless Exploration beyond the heart’s control. You. I had dreamed of you before I knew you—engendering a spectrum Of expressions before we had Been divorced from the evolution Of protective tactics and tactile Contact—an attempt to Assert control under the guise of Passion and benevolence—disguised— In carefully crafted colorful Contradictions. You. I had lost you Before you were found—before We came into existence through 78. 79. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18

Dark hues and ivory white—terra-cotta Carved out of what I’d envision In the Belly of Sentient Beings Remnants of Rodin’s statues would Taste like—a Hunter Boone Kiss rendered within the Weight of the wait— Within—noiseless musical notes And dead torn letters, seeking In the belly of sentient beings are Release from the plausibility black holes and worms, Of a timed moment cloaking desire Postures; In the rhetoric of necessary, worthy and unworthy Narcissistic arbitrations that hide gestures, raisons d’etre, Behind the poisonous pride and longings, Lazy stretches of my imagination. tentacles of regrets, You—you’re a wave of resistance fuselages of desire below Subject to poetic disruptions— puffed-up bloated hearts Summoned—by the poked-through Semblance of change. with sticks and twigs; You’re a hole in my life—a diminutive red and blue blood Part of a larger whole—contrived— wrapped in twine Within the fiction of art—ritualized— hanging from To accept dialectical loss. meaningless empty bottles You—a three-day memory of preparedness. Mounted on the Meticulously assembled wall This is where the soul sits and rests Of unwanted, long-forgotten relationships— hanging from the nearest cavity wall My so-called beholder of— until the last chime rings Diabolical love—my—distorted announcing, Perception of evocative depth— “Times up!” An unnoticed death where the door slams Replete with rust, imbued with red— and the whistle blows. Between binding bodies—beyond broken Beginnings—beneath—borrowed breaths. Suddenly there are no plans to make, no hearts to break, no solemn longings half-baked.

Image by Syed Zaman 80. 81. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Toreo Arguments In Relationship Adam Hanover Jennifer Stephenson Head and brick wall comes to mind I. tercio de varas he is blind with frustration and I am only half sighted with Prisons have no pageantry only ritual and on Monday understanding; desire vs ability is a afternoons the fiesta begins and leads to an open circle point of contention. If I were a bird I would fly to the which is not quite a panopticon because this is all pageantry clouds and dive down in frustration and the bull knows for sure it is not being watched and anguish, I don’t get it! I don’t get it! I would squawk—I’m sorry I’m next to a torero whose language needs no translation He’s sorry I’m sorry imsorryimsorry over a villain this bull charging from an arbitrary querencia and over again until the words lose all meaning and sound like the to gore the horses staining the hot sand with his bravura quick hum of a race car, flying Hail the conquering maestro with the crimson muleta round a race track, trapped. Somebody take the lid off the II. tercio de banderillas fucking dome and let us out.

Details Goya never showed you the bull five years old brown eyes downcast shoulders slumped too tired

to charge too proud to lay down collecting banderillas on slumped shoulders until

his head finally bows and the aficionados hurry to count the picks Fifteen in case you were curious A noble performance worthy

of a violent wave of handkerchiefs from the crowd and an awarding of an ear to the maestro but no indulto for the bull

III. tercio de muerte

In Portugal they show mercy and slaughter the bull away from the eyes of the crowd but Spain

is weighed down by its traumatic history and thirsts for redemption through a decadent art form a sacrifice

to unknown deities whom this bull might meet first Deities who could name the nameless give power to the dispensable

and clothe the naked in the brilliant gold of the maestro the brave one whose estocada gives voice to this bull you could never understand 82. 83. The Opiate, Summer Vol.18 KFC Rhapsody Compulsion to Bury Cameron Morse Inès Giudici 27/07 for Jordon Robert Shinn Dreams buried Under the concrete. I pause to look at you. Your eyes were never born. I couldn’t wake you On my last morning in Beijing up to love. I’m sorry. where five years earlier I contracted myself to teach at the University 29/07 of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, You don’t seem to mind. You never seemed to mind. I take Old Summer Palace Road to KFC for a final cup of freshly ground coffee. 30/07 In five days I have fallen in love again I miss something I never had. I want to say that I ran away from you. I have the freedom to with the heavy-metal smell believe a lie. A lie isn’t always the truth that was buried along with the rest. I miss you. of the necropolis. I drink deeply from the wellspring 2/08 of secondhand smoke. Lili curses My potted plant died. and steps into the street. Near the skywalk, a dark pile 3/08 of clothes in the shape of a person parts Who will live in the house now? the bitter air. A pair of eyes appear pinched between hood and cowl 4/08 in a slot of sunbaked skin, scarves Who will live in the house now? hanging in long trains about humanoid lump of an entire family’s wardrobe 6/08 of winter clothes dumped on one being. I have the compulsion to bury. I did it again. The potted plant lies below the ground. The Five years ago, I broke my contract, truth grazed me like a bullet. I disturbed the story of us – I danced on our graves like an fell one night convulsing at the foot earthquake. It was my fault – I’m sorry. of a wardrobe a world away in Florissant, Colorado, a chalet that would 7/08 in five years collapse into night flames. You tried to call. After I emailed my resignation, friends raided my campus apartment, sifting 8/08 through the years Lili and I spent I thought of the dreams. I never meant to leave old favorites behind. I was too young to know at Beijing New Talent. Jordon culled what to do. I could have waited, but I grow young. Where is a somebody to tell you what the through photos, scanned the contents hell you’re meant to do? I’d listen to the cockroach on my shelf. of hard drives, carried away rugs, my guitar and Lili’s essential oils, leaving 9/08 a mountain for the dumpster. I listened to the cockroach on my shelf. I thought of a book, too. On the walk back with my cup and croissant, I wonder if the statue’s moved, 10/08 the sightless seer, omen of my return to the city Did my dreams swear at me? that tried to eat me, ode to the city that stole my years. Because I’m still not likely 11/08 to live long, I wonder if the city’s still standing there Re: your phone call. with her back to the wind, waiting I’m not sorry. Sorry. for me to pass. The ring 84. 85. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Meditation on a Pine The Line Matthew Corey Timothy Robbins “A tree does not have a predestined shape that it has to achieve.” “No one ever mentions his flesh opening to take the three nails.” An upward The line came just before the soaring trunk, foreman entered me and I bare of breathed it on his neck, causing low branches fallen off him to pause for just a sec. from the shade I tried it on a few other guys it grew and got puzzled grunts and a to provide pair of sighs that were either along with irritated or not related to this its neighbors. erotic proto-haiku. Marvin reacted They compete, as though he’d been waiting to co-operate hear it since his first sticky sheets, and had planned what to (or neither). say and do. “Oh Kitten, your

On its own, mind’s as sexy as your flat the crown’s tummy,” his voice quivered small, meager and he trembled. “Yes,” I add it confessed, “I’m lily-livered; to the group I’m your brave little coward.” and a canopy He shook like a Whirlpool forms – more dryer with an unbalanced than enough load, a car whose flat tire pulls for each it convulsing to the side of a to keep sketchy road, the last un-sired thriving, reaching Shaker touched by God for light, before being covered with and not fall barren sod. I had accidentally on the small called him a powerful name hunting lodge he didn’t know he had and next to them. so he clutched me with all the strength of panic, as though I were his only kid and we were trapped on the Mary Rose, the Lusitania, the Titanic.

86. 87. The Opiate, Summer Vol.18 Prophecy Disintegration of Stars Victor Marrero Victor Marrero A tailspin. And then the crash landing. The escape hatch ready, his cellmate said: The private plane approached too fast You’re a free man, my friend. Let’s go. But he declined to go in dimming light and winter rain. In real life and stayed behind. This one, too, showcased deviance to the core. the pilot plays a superhero, onscreen His peculiar strain? Long years confined, a chance to flee, vaunting titanic strength, self-satisfied, he spurned the break, surrendering to incapacity a triumphant smirk on his oily, dusty face. by what he apprehended. Weeks before, asked to join the plot, On landing, his blood, like his speed, proved toxic. his weird behavior recurred, troubled by something big. A long skid, for him just a big scare. But in real life, as he routinely does on film, Aloof in the courtyard. Silent in the shop. Always deep in thought. he walked away unscathed. Only mortals airborne He stared outside, gazing blankly past the walls at a blind spot on the other flight. No stuntmen. No one enhanced on the horizon, mind turning and churning as though appraising with celluloid coating to shield from harm’s way. the net worth of the world out there for him at the margins where the earth’s rough edge curved at the rim like a blade In real life, the captain swerved and cut off the sky. Returned to his bunk, he snuggled in a fetal curl, a moment too late. And on the runway, sleeping away fear and the reprise of nightmares for days on end. tire streaks askew, debris scattered for miles around. Luggage. Seat-strapped travelers. Wings disjointed. Did he lose his mind? Pressed why, he once replied: Fuselage skin ripped apart like a tin can peeled open. It is easier this way. Even here. Even now, like this. Tarmac slick where fuel and blood and guts spilled. Remnants splattered down on earth like detritus Years ago, the grim signs appeared. Sentence served, dropped from a disintegration of stars. Telltales bare all. his parting promise was foreboding. I will be back, he said. In this show of strength, some are endowed too much, On the way out he looked for a way in. He stabbed a guard. some too little to fill the brawny roles they flaunt. And just as he pledged, he was back, as if seeking asylum. Lightness burdens humankind A comfort zone of belonging somewhere fulfilled a prophecy. with more humanity than it can bear.

88. 89. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Permutations - Rufo Quintavalle paperthin forms, rust marked Permutations iron cusp

Rufo Quintavalle water arsenic clouds, in columns carpet’s fibrous takes flight, trace, hi-ho human pours evil pops up watch me pass the six in your of clubs; lager face; I’m brings out yours anger in you yes but grace’s silo I am not hums, trams yet up, I cannot tension return purrs mercurial songs a tendril tell truth grows, turns in jags makes its own or reruns sutra femur, fists; catch me bad bones if you can, she sings, jut our age is foul in pallor and devious helpful pills, dawn’s tepid chorus alone washes light on tundra; but still wedding of sun among men and veils let us, day begins trials over, on cursal heights quit harm, of musak, then love trills to dusk petunias cover pale mist; burial plots, crocus flattering recurring charms thought’s of wet sun acre stem’s quick snakeskins drop, flash curl; hardening once burst to dust is candor and serifs 90. 91. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 Permutations - Rufo Quintavalle begun in chasing major stress, muse or magic burnt lips and cortex coral pink curve: new trusting mortality days flow rune west, shunting dark to dew gonads: minute euclid, sappho, commas, the fun hirsute toads is above us foaming butter on rabbit, her music, duck leg, boar chaos; with cut lemons the tuning all wrong or platitudes drop painful wellbutrin hellos, black halo, hell’s minutes of rain dull climax: hope slob grabbing cute boys, hot air, flaccid muscles: bubbles coma of calm thick musk polar light, curved road, normality wishful crumbles: cenotaph god’s fanciful zero put off this heavy crops and flummox, its bitumen; corn dreary fur pays tribute to man undo its nets and turn slow train to life, farflung rumbles noises call on flashing thunder unlocking fearful orbits, somatic wet cauls rust-bled of sin roadkill; muted boasts buttons shine, capfuls of no brain, spilt metal just demons sun 92. 93. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18

burnt stories that lust told, little draughts of spite

full of fire and rum’s horrid tears

stupor, lies and customized harm

but now children laugh tonight, petals curl fun-loving CRITICISM dew falls upon this year

utopic breath spurts fog in feral puffs

supposing we can just stop still, be

hurt’s morbid death pull lost in leaf

94. 95. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Ragdoll Cipher Actress Hasn’t Learned the Lines You’d Like to Hear: Alfred Hayes’ My Face For the World to See - Genna Rivieccio

gone from fresh off the boat to dozen in Los Angeles. herself as a fragile little lamb. As though increasingly stale. Our Screenwriter knows she sees it as her best tactic for getting Because it gets so bad— so very that. Yet still, there’s something oddly a foot in the door. For dealing with surreal in its badness—our Actress is left compelling to him about her despair. men that act like wolves in an industry with no other coping mechanism than Her “sad state” that prompts him to that is such a darkened and terrifyingly to invent an explanation for her travails. offer to take her out to an “everyman’s” unnavigable forest without a huntsman A means to justify away all the reasons (that’s code for “black people hang for guidance. Or at least a wolf in for why nothing is going her way, why out there”) bar called the Club Sierra, sheep’s clothing. “...’chance’ is a concept that manifests tenfold in the antithet- ically named City of Angels. At the same time, it might just be The Ragdoll Cipher Actress Hasn’t Learned the the perfect epithet for a place Lines You’d Like to Hear: Alfred Hayes’ My that generates so many fallen Face For the World to See angels in the spirit of Lucifer.” Genna Rivieccio she feels so incredibly lonely all the time a place she seems to have frequented At the outset, maybe the and, most importantly, that this is all before in his estimation. For yes, there Screenwriter is something like endeared up when she inevitably ends up calling. Ostensibly to t will shock you how much this never just some grueling test secretly put on are so many things he doesn’t really by her—maybe even feels a certain “I “thank” him, but he knows better. She smelled that he happened,” Don Draper once said to Peggy Olsen as by the studio to see if she truly has what know about her. So many things that, sense of responsibility toward “caring might have clout at the studio (as if a screenwriter ever a means of convincing her to forget all about the baby it takes to be an actress. in his male and screenwriter brain, for” her after saving her life at that party does) and perhaps thought that hanging about with she would give birth to only to abandon it for the sake Of course, there is more allow him to project all of his theories where they were first thrown together him might do her fledgling career some good. of her career. “For the sake of one’s career,” in fact, than just a fine line between a healthy and assumptions onto her. That she’s by chance. For “chance” is a concept But oh how it does just the opposite for her is the crux of why so many people find themselves imagination and sheer derangement, doomed to be the tragic spinster, the that manifests tenfold in the ironically as she grows that pesky word, “attached.” Or so our in unpleasant moral gray areas, isn’t it (ahem, and it’s one that Hollywood and failed actress. That this little dalliance nicknamed City of Angels. At the same Screenwriter thinks. For it is when she finds out that Mark Zuckerberg)? The same goes for the nameless all of its aspirants thrive on toeing. between them will ultimately mean far time, it might just be the perfect epithet he’s been married for fifteen years and has a daughter screenwriter of Alfred Hayes’ 1958 novella, My Face Unfortunately for our Actress, she seems more to her than it does to him. for a place that generates so many fallen that a certain resigned acceptance washes over her. For the World to See. A screenwriter who finds himself to trip up in between the line, making As their relationship escalates, angels in the spirit of Lucifer. Yes, this has happened to her before. No, she’s no in the odd position of needing to rescue a drunken for an unpleasant roadblock on the makes them more entwined than the Everything that happens to a stranger to pain. What girl is, really? Least of all one and drowning aspiring actress from the ocean at a path to stardom. The stardom she was Screenwriter had planned, he comes to person in the film arena is a result of who has been trying for years to make it in the game of quintessential Hollywood party that “lasted too long.” so assured she could have all because find that the Actress “wasn’t as unaware whether fortune smiles upon her or Hollywood. Yet for as many warnings and cautionary Hence its devolution into such theatrics. Though someone in suburban San Diego once of herself as she pretended to be.” In doesn’t. Whether luck and chance see tales that it has inspired, one can never know just how knowing from observing her that her movements had told her she had a pretty face. But pretty fact, there is something all very carefully fit to toss her (literally) into the arms bad, how soul-crushingly painful, it can be until she’s all the makings of a suicide in it, he does not bring it faces, as we all know, are but a dime a curated about the way she presents of someone with “authority” in the 96. 97. The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18 The Ragdoll Cipher Actress Hasn’t Learned the Lines You’d Like to Hear: Alfred Hayes’ My Face For the World to See - Genna Rivieccio

business. Someone like the Screenwriter. particular could create. The sort of the ones that the Screenwriter himself There is no use for a soul in a world Still, even after being tossed into them, nihilism that would establish a blueprint inflicted by choosing to save her at all at like this, so cartoonishly represented she’s cautious, almost guarded, in how for the postmodern ennui of the likes of that damned party. by the realm of L.A. That synecdoche she broaches the subject of getting a Joan Didion and Bret Easton Ellis. The But before this crescendo of a for all hollowness and vapidity that leg up (yes, so many limb analogies) inability to be anything other than blasé dramatic scene, there is the proverbial enraptures the masses. For if someone from him at first. Bides her time for the about “the nature of things.” That “Last Supper” between them. The final doesn’t want to be the entertainment, sake of “authenticity” in forming an nature being decidedly doomed for the “consolation” dinner the Screenwriter then they have no choice to be the emotional bond (for that’s what every calamitous. The horribly ill-fated. And, feels obliged to take her to as some sort of consumer of it. To participate in good actress does). just as the Screenwriter exhibits, all that conciliatory “Goodbye, Norma Jeane” the orchestra of distraction that As the Screenwriter finds can seem to be done to cope with it is coda. It is within the parameters of this society has running as such a well- himself more at her mercy than the other to shrug it off, sweep it under the rug “stage” that the Actress finally gives her oiled machine to keep anyone from way around, his faint trace of sympathy and pray that, with enough alcohol, the greatest performance yet in choosing, at actually thinking too much. Like (for it’s certainly not empathy) for her flashbacks will be kept at bay. Maybe, last, to no longer perform. To play the the Actress herself, who continues altogether vanishes by the denouement in truth, that was the entire purpose for innocent wayward girl hardened by an on her tirade of frankness, “A man, of their hostile dynamic. One that his brief encounter with the Actress. To uncaring city. For it wasn’t the city that what was another man? Everything finds the Screenwriter remarking, “... learn from her how to do what she had made her engage in a bit of afternoon disappeared: down the drain it went. she’d been hit sometime, somewhere, adopted so well for so long as a survival delight with the grocery boy she would With the baby fat; with the buttocks in the past, and I looked at her: the skill: a strong application of denial call upon to deliver her items from the admired once by a photographer; high cheekbones, the whole disordered paired with embracing the city for the local store. Or to take advantage of a with the first strapless dress. My expression, the mouth loose and twisted monstrous “rhinestone” that it is. boy she was “caring for” one afternoon God, men: men were only something a little, and I hated her, and all those During one of their relationship who seemed so determined to snuggle women needed in addition to clothes. like her, for she seemed in that moment “highs” (though that might be too up to her, to instinctively please her in She couldn’t even remember now, and to contain in herself all that I hated and strong a word), the calculated candor of that carnal way that Freud discusses it was only a few weeks, what making feared in people, the violent follies, the the Actress manifests in her vehement with such conviction exists in children. love to me was like. Poor darling. I’d vicious melodramas, the grotesque self- defense of the town as she insists, “I Yet, to quote Annie Hall, “Even Freud thought she would remember, didn’t destructiveness.” wouldn’t stay here, or any place, if I spoke of a latency period.” I? But really, it was only vanity to Morally righteous without hated it.” The Screenwriter then makes It is this confession, one that expect her to: to think what I’d done any ground to stand on much? Most his own little psychoanalyis about her she also points out even scandalized a with my hands or my mouth had unequivocally, for that is both the male (even though she already has Dr. Ritter priest, of all people, that completely been one particle different than any way and especially the “powerful” male to do that), “I began to understand then rocks the Screenwriter to his core. other lover had done who’d grunted way. Regardless of whether he’s married that for her it was the best of all places But back to the priest. A priest who on the pillow beside her. Down, down or not. And, to the point of the legally she could be in, an arena perfectly (apart from surely being no stranger to it went: kisses and hands and lovers: binding contract that is marriage, it is suited for a play in which she was pedophilia himself), ought not to have gurgling down the drain.” precisely because the Screenwriter’s always the permanent heroine whether looked so shocked by her admission And with them any further wife has chosen to blow into the West she succeeded or whether she failed.” considering that it “was his business, shred of the Actresses’ capacity to from her perch in the East (New York) And yes, failure is most undeniably sins.” Despite this, the Screenwriter bother putting on the veneer they that he breaks off his “palling around” the route she can’t deny she’s been still alludes to the notion that she can all want to see. Of being the perfect with her. Yet why can’t he help but taking. A feeling made all the more go to a “delousing station” for her soul. cipher to project all of their heroic think that it was her intention all along palpably intense when, even after the She guffaws, the mask entirely off now, fantasies onto. The notions of to be heartbroken? After all, if it wasn’t, Screenwriter helps her get an audution, the tone of the dialogue now taking a “doing her a favor” by paying such why would she seem to hone so intently she ends up bombing it. third person slant for an added effect of a malleable ragdoll the time of day in on “the married kind”? Or, at least, It is with the revelation that, surrealness: “Were souls coming back, at all. But after so many dealings this is how he rationalizes what follows even with the gentle lubricant of having like mahjong? But it was such a waste, with the men of L.A., there can be between them. “a connection,” she still can’t make it wasn’t it, to have bothered giving her no denying that the Actress hasn’t While Hayes was never known work that she decides to resume her one. So superfluous. It was one of the learned the lines you’d like to hear. for being much of a rose-colored glasses former level of going on a bender. Of least necessary things. A soul, how silly. And she has a very iconoclastic new writer (evidence of which most critics drinking like it’s the only cure in the Of what possible use could it be, except ending for the script in mind. commonly like to refer to in 1954’s In world for her ills. The ones that her to get in the way and trip her, at critical Love), My Face For the World to See accents mother and father initially instilled moments, like a nightgown that was a an especial nihilism that only Hollywood within her that she starts to regressively bit too long?” in general and 1950s Hollywood in act out in front of the Screenwriter and No, the Actress is not wrong. 98. 99. 100.