Chapter sitting in sinks & eric
Joelene🌸
I’m Joelene.
And here’s a few things
that you should know
about me:
One: I love sugar pancakes,
and guys with potbellies.
And beard.
And men that wears
white wife-beaters,
with cigs hanging
from the corner of their lips.
And men who drives pick-up trucks.
And men with dogs.
It’s a plus if you have dogs.
And the shaggy ones? It’s a double plus.
I love sitting in sinks:
When Mama is not home, that is.
If she ever sees me, she'd confiscate all those
old mills & boobs I read on the daily.
They are called: Mills & Boon.
But I say Boobs because they're filled with
S.E.X. Satisfying. Enjoyment. X-rated.
Now I can't read them around Papa,
because he'd burn them along with
them naked magazines
I see him with on Sundays.
When Mama goes to the community church
with that fat pastor, wearing those big,
broad hats that hides her bony face.
He'd read and read and read.
And I think it's those old, smelly books
that caused my quick-growth crush on
Eric Jacobs.
I don't mean the magazines,
I mean the romance books.
Who's Eric?
Patience. Patience.
So eager to go to prison,
aren't you?
Eric was/is perfect.
He reminds me of cherries.
The ones too far in the tress.
That you have to climb the balk to get them.
And your skirt gets caught
in an overgrown limb
and boys with their tricycles below
are getting flashes
of your cotton panties.
But you don't care because,
boys are ugly
when you've met someone like Eric.
So let's backtrack...
to the first day we spoke.