Every woman in
New York City
has two men: the
successful, much older,
faux-artist-fedora
boyfriend…and me,
the Sugar Baby.
As the city’s appointed
Sugar Baby, the mayor
has made it very clear
that it is my job to satisfy
and, oh, how I satisfy.
These women of twenty-
something, how easy they are
to be swayed from their man.
It’s as if he means not a thing
to them at all. And
of course he does not, so
that is exactly why I steal
with only a bite from the distance
on the sidewalk and a wild twine
in my eye as I pass her having
lunch with her girlfriends in Tribeca.
From there it’s just busy work for me,
though for her it is something
else entirely. For her I am
the rumble of earth
surfacing from below.
I am the ghost
in the kitchen
after she was so so convinced
that ghosts and those types of things
could not exist. I am the manifest of
the reevaluation of her life.
And I do it for all of us,
guys who are sick of seeing
time pass without the baddest
women of their generation
by our sides. So hear this
older dude who is
dating any woman my age,
I have been in your bed
with her all day long.
While you were at work
she screamed my name
through everything you own.
I had her in your kitchen
on the table, and when
we finished I made myself
a sandwich from your
refrigerator. By the way,
good choice on the pepper jack.
It was the exact right amount
of spice.
Detroit writer and poet Ian Brown currently resides in New York City where he is receiving an MFA in poetry from the New School. Author of 3 chap books and recipient of the 2009 Jim Cash Award in Poetry, his work can be found in such places as PANK Magazine and the Best American Poetry blog.
This is awesome.