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The Ceilings of Seattle

I looked up. I was visiting Seattle, and this was the first ceiling I’d seen. My trick’s mother-in-law apartment had been refinished recently. The living room was paneled in real wood; not tacky rec room paneling, but rather 1930’s cabin resort fir planks. The ceiling was low and painted cream. I could see a thin crack the shape of Italy running diagonally near the northwest corner. It was clean and smooth, with no spider webs or dust. There was one couch, a wood and leather sling chair, a reddish Oriental carpet, and a music stand in the room, but not much else. Wine-colored velvet drapes hung at the room’s small window.
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Slick

I am slick. I reach between my legs with two fingers, And inside, I am so slick, Like horse spit or snail trails, Nothing like girls. I gather scoops of my come on my two hooked fingers, Bring them to … Continue reading

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