Victoria Williams: 0075

Last night on the trail of my stockings: it led right to Allen’s door, and I hesitated to open it because what do you say to someone who’s probably wearing your stockings and looking better in them than you?

But then in one moment I knew what to say, so the door opened and I spoke fast without looking:

“Allen I have a problem. Everyone knows we are really enemies pretending to be friends – now I have to go to a party with him, but it’s really a ritual gathering and everyone will look at me and be in agreement with him. They’ll all close in… It has become a conspiracy. They’re hiding all the good and light and turning me out into the alley. What can I say to them? What is the position you showed me to alleviate my symptoms?”

I open my eyes and Allen finishes pirouetting and settles in meditative repose.

“Some to his street. Great con from filled hotels. Not idiot, he’d first sometimes drive on a big afternoon. Eyebrow rocking under poolhall shoeshine moment. Young cue-fixed man, thumb unfolding, slowly last as only the truth can be.”

Then silence.

I kneel and like Mary Magdalene, remove my stockings from his holy legs and slink away, back to the night.