Reading Morgan Parker in the Ninety Degrees

I would have let you borrow my Morgan

but I am moving down south at the end of the month

 

for economic reasons and to help a broken heart.

My rent will be low so I should buy you ten Morgans

 

and raise you a Beyonce in the Gaga.

August nights in New York City are august.

 

Payback for the afternoon frizz and tit sweat

and the boil festering on the lip of my labia

 

that ends at my taint.

I am spread wide on the bathroom floor administering

 

hot compresses to this land mass

I call Luxemburg. The cats find this

 

odd, but since this procedure is far from their food

bowls, they don’t give a shit.

 

I am trying to take a picture on my i phone of this

cunt parasite. I only capture

 

fat thighs and gray hairs.

I am Lady Gagging. When I walk

 

down Canal Street with all the almost- naked hotties

men give me a wide berth of respect.

 

Braless, I am avoided like an accident.

Beyonce is playing Orlando in September.