(b.o.l.b., vol. 7) -knife fight-

7/27/2019 (b.o.l.b., vol. 7) -knife fight-

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borough of lost boys, vol. vii

-knife fight-

*by someone who gets creative*

(frankie leone, just a man)


2/26

-delivery boy-

*by someone with a colorful work history*


*

! *no new york neighborhood boasts pure hopelessness.even the worst ones are cut with chances for gentrification. five

to ten minutes by subway or bus and someone can find an

organic salad.

! there are cities where both sides of the tracks are thewrong ones. l.l. bean doesnt send catalogues to any of the

buildings unsolicited.

! one of these is through the holland tunnel or over thegeorge washington bridge. its a city that hasnt recovered from

riots decades and decades ago. its political systems so broken a

trillion dollars would pass through it like water in a sieve.

! im talking about newark, new jersey.**


3/26

! *the caddy i drive from age seventeen to nineteen idles inthe daylight. ill total it in about a year. my eyes absorb the

harshness of downtown newark while her and i wait in bucket

seats for him.*

*

! *he knows what i pass him through the rolled downwindow of my early nineties el dorado isnt mine. theres a

chance hes aware whose it is. doesnt matter though. even if he

is he doesnt care.

! this is clinton avenue, cocaine capital of jersey, and imjust an errand-running white boy working for another white

boy. this is his neighborhood. im just passing through.

! hes wearing workout gloves. its fall but ive seen himwearing them in the summer time too. its not hard to guess why.

! nodding, his gloved hand turns the package. he seemsunconcerned with the neighborhoods police. his corn rows are

freshly twisted. like an investment banker in a cornflower

button-up with a white collar, he looks the part.

! we straight, he says and begins to turn away.


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! this is bad.! i insist, wherere the bills?! he smiles, dont trip mah dude. takin this one on credit.i got you later.

! shes riding shotgun. we dont talk much about my afterschool job. shes gathered enough to know whats happening

isnt good.

! i find the handle and begin opening the heavy door.

! hold up, his jagged voice warns.! his left hand lifts his t shirt exposing a pistol tuckedbetween ck boxer-briefs and sagged jeans. his right brandishes a

pointer finger at her.

! i aint playin, he informs without emotion.! theres something wrong with me. being shown a gundoesnt bring out much of an emotional response. it probably

should.


5/26

! this situations the exception. she gets him. her face showsthe beginnings of hysteria. my hand sprint away from the doors

handle. both hands grip the wheel where he can see them.

! smart mofucka, he says and jogs towards a buildingdoor fifteen feet away.

! he must be pretty unintimidated to turn his back onsomeone hes robbed for almost a thousand dollars.my egobleeds.*

*

! *the scary parts here. letting the propertys owner know.! through a prepaid phone my voice tip toes, he took itwithout paying.

! he never sounds angry. thats whats most frighteningabout him.

! im coming to pick you up now. dont make me waitoutside. were day-tripping to jersey.

! ok, i say because its the only thing i can.


6/26

! what do they call this clown again?! big rell.! sounds like a tough guy, his vocal chords smirk into myear before he hangs up.*

*

! *1988 monte carlo super sport. fresh electric blue paint.clean factory rims. its fucking beautiful. i make sure i dont

slam the door getting in.

! looking at him always jars me a little. his heads shaved tothe scalp. queens, new york is tattooed in gothic lettering

across its left side. eight of the fingers gripping the wheel have a

letter of skin head tattooed on each knuckle. his long sleeve

ben sherman button-ups orange. no one looks good in orange.

! he skips pleasantries.! did the joker have a gun?!

yeah.

! what kind?


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! probably a glock. there was an extended magazinesticking out of the handle too.

! he doesnt react. just opens the glove box and removes hishardware. he makes sure every chambers full and spins the

cylinder of the large revolver. after clicking it back into place he

tucks it between his legs almost out of sight.

! you should be able to do everything with eight shotsyoud want to with sixteen.

! id rather not use any shots, i say softly.

! thats why you got bitch made by a faggot amateur.! i dont respond. we start driving towards the tunnel insilence.*

*

! *the glass panes of the bars front havent been washed ina while. a neon colt 45 sign hangs behind them.

!i had a twenty-two ounce draft here the one time i met the

poor bastard who robbed me. it was a dollar. the whites of the

bartenders eyes were more of a yellow.


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! this shit-holes where he hangs out?! think so.! makes sense. that rimmed out rice rocket an inch fromthe grounds his?

! he gestures towards a modified foreign car parked nearthe bars open door.

! think so.! you think so? youre not brave or bright i guess. heusually alone?

! i dont know.! what fucking use are you, he asks bringing anotherinstrument out from under his seat. a section of the barrels have

been sawed off. im pretty sure thats illegal. doubt thats on his

list of concerns.

! this has gotten way too real.! pushing the shotgun into my grip he says, make sure wehave privacy when i get him out on the street.


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! i dont shoot people, i whisper.! fuck was that?! i dont shoot people.! his right knuckles, bearing the head part of skinhead, hook into my sol plexus. i lose my wind.

! youll be able to breathe again in a second. listen good-you could trade places with him if youd like.

! when im able to get air back in my lungs i re-grip theshotgun thinking about my options. the decisions ive made up to

now havent left any good ones. he sees i understand this and

starts rolling up his sleeves. i notice a u.s.m.c. death before

dishonour tattoo on the back of his forearm.

! after tucking the pistol into the back of his pants he walksinto the bar. his gaits casual.*

*

!*the doors open but the thief exits the bar through the

window panes.


10/26

! my employer walks out the door with the samenonchalance he walked in with. the gun gripped in his hand isnt

the revolver hed brought with him. its the automatic id seen in

the offending partys waist earlier.

! no one runs out of the bar to help the man lying on theground surrounded by broken glass. im afraid to close my eyes.

the shotgun rests in my lap while i stare.

! its a hell of a thing watching a man get beaten half todeath with his own gun.*

*

! *he shuts the car door as carefully as i did when he getsback in. he starts rolling down his sleeves and buttoning the

cuffs. theres blood on the ugly shirt.

! want to get a sandwich? i aint buying though, is thefirst thing he says.

! i dont answer.

! suit yourself. im getting chicken cutlet on white.cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, oil, vinegar, mayo, salt,


11/26

and pepper. if youre hungry you better get your own when we

stop. im not sharing.

! i dont answer. he shifts the gears, starts driving,andsighs.! maybe you should start thinking about delivering pizzasinstead.*

*


12/26

-knife fight-

*by someone who gets creative*


*

! *i always feel like a dirt bag drifting towardsunconsciousness post sex. theyre awake and very aware im

falling asleep moments after.

i know what theyre thinking:

hes such a man.*

*

! *daylight and nudity betray my bodys been a few places.exhaustion pulls back curtains around my belief im the center

of the universe.

! ivedealt with a myriad of dysfunctionalpersonalitiesworking since sunrise in three different boroughs(biking nearly twenty miles) and still made half the money i

think i deserve. tonights self pity feels justified.


13/26

! its nearing eight in the evening and ive been at her placeon caton ave and east 18th st about forty minutes. our plans for

an informal hang out were made days ago.

! the bitter-sweet apples been rough on her recently. iheard it in her voice on the phone. her room reflects the same.

clothes litter the floor. sheets are balled up at the foot of her bed.

theres a broken open capsule of m.d.m.a. on the bedstand.

! it hurts seeing her eyes look so beaten.**

! *our skinny bodies screw.! i start to fall asleep. a wounded voice says, baby, its onlyeight thirty.

! im consciously fucking up. i feel her disgusted green eyeswhile i fade out of reality.*

*

!*i wake up at six and remember what went down. shes

still checked out. watching her sleep usually makes me happier


14/26

about where i am. this morning guilt vibrates appropriately

through my brain.

! seems like a good time to clean up.! she doesnt own a laundry bag so i fold clothes clutteringthe floor and pile them. i move onto collecting delivery food bags

and cans next. she wakes up to the percussion of cans and bottles

being thrown into a plastic bag.

! whatre you doing? dont worry about that, ill take careof it later.

! i ignore her and collect some scattered papers into astack. she repeats herself.

! seriously, stop. i can clean my own room.

! i gesture to the drug paraphernalia on her bedstand,need this empty capsule of molly?

! whats your problem?!

i dont respond, just stare blankly.

! she answers, ugh, youre so stubborn. no.


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! i throw it in the trash bag. a blanket stretched across thefloor begins to fold in my arms. she gives up and returns to her

dreams.*

*

! *breakfast is two egg sandwiches i buy from the bodegaby the q stop. the panamanian woman who made them doesnt

speak english so both our orders are wrong. were used to this.

after unwrapping them on her bedroom floor were pleased

theyre right enough to be palatable.

! she asks, working this morning?! of course.! i see disappointment in her expression. her face isbeautiful. it has a unique round shape. her skins pale and clear. i

dont like to smudge it with unhappiness.

! whatre you doing?! she responds, probably hanging out here. i dont workuntil twelve.


16/26

! you mean youre going to sleep the morning away in thiswindowless room? no way. walk with me through prospect park.

ill walk to the g instead of taking the q.

! youre not my father. plus, itll take you twice the time.! im ok with that.*

*

! *the air in the park smells slow and safe. the emotionsaturating the ground feels breathable. her shoulders look less

weighted outside her bedroom.

! she speaks to me.! you used to fight a lot when you were younger right?

! ive been in one or two, i say smirking.! she laughs.! right. well, right now im outmatched. i feel like im alittle girl whos never been in a fight and a much bigger older

guys kicking my ass.


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! whos the guy?! she pauses to think.! life i guess.! its my turn to think.

! eventually i say, sounds like you need to change up yourfighting style.

! her face smudges in a frown.

! everything seems insurmountable. i feel like i couldntever hit hard or fast enough.

! find a way to pull a knife.! this sharpens her frown into a smile.! what if i dont have one?! then dont wait for one to drop out of the sky. getcreative. pick up a chair or bottle.


18/26

! it feels good to hear her laugh again. were reaching theedge of the park. the g trains not far.

! thanks for cleaning my room, she tells me after somesilence.

! course baby. once a bartender told me a clean roommakes for a cleaner mind.

! she doesnt say anything back for a little while.! thanks for forcing me out of my apartment.

! didnt mean to be forceful. just felt like i had to make anexecutive decision.

! were at the edge of the park and almost at goodbye.

! could you do me a favor?! sure thing. what do you want, she asks.! look around the park for a blade a little before goinghome?*

*


19/26

-boxing-

*by a southpaw who still has a good right*


*

! *happy childhood in a long island suburb.! blonde.! only wears abercrombie.! no piercing or tattoos.! teaches me how to punch her face without leaving amark.*

*

! *my bedroom has no windows.! red numerals of a clock radio glow onto us with sinisterappropriateness. it provides enough light for me to line up my

knuckles flat against her cheek bone and jaw.


20/26

! she whispers, draw them back a few inches and bringthem down. your fist should land so the hit distributes across the

centers of all four knuckles. hit me as hard as you like.

! were naked in a spooning position. shes skinnier than iam. i like that. my left arm is wrapped around her body. it hugs

her close.

! i hit her.! harder. i wont break, she says elevating her tone.! nervousness begins to tremor through me. i hit her again.! harder. be a man.! she means it. it feels more wrong because shes so damnpretty.

! my knuckles land against her face one last time. this onefeels the way she wants. aqua eyes radiate ecstasy before they

shut. she bites her bottom lip.

!cant say i get it. that doesnt matter though- she does. we

kiss slowly.*


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*

! *sometimes i eat non-breakfast burritos in the morning.! everyone has their thing.*

*


22/26

-broken hands-

*by someone trying to piece it all together*


*

! *sometimes i drag myself through days, my fingernailssunken into a chalkboard. others i march mechanically, eyes

locked forward until i close them in sleep. now im not doing

either.

! the sun has resigned and i float through my mindlistening to the buildings of manhattan whisper to me- their

nothings are especially sweet on the roof of the standard hotel. i

sweep my gaze over crowds of people watching everyone watch

everyone. a fall breeze massages my skin.

! light brown hair falls around his long face. he pushes itback. looking at me with a smirk he remarks, were just kings

being king dude.

! my thoughts exactly, i laugh and we breathe in the citysilently.


23/26

! his eyes are red. whiskey hasnt been easy on him thepassed few days. still, a raw energy breaks from his eyes through

his pain. a bandaged hand brings a rocks glass to his lips. the

dressing on its fresh but blood still seeps through. the opposite

hand has a ceramic cast over it.

! he tells me, a song found me the other day dude. it wasmagic.

! i reply, oh yeah?! yeah man, it was so sick. after all the shit thats gonedown the universe finally sent me something.

! i dont understand but sometimes this guys tough tounderstand. while i wait for an explanation i take in his features.

hes one of the tallest (and thinnest) people i know. his hair flows

passed his shoulders and his arms are blanketed in black tattoos

representing occult culture.

! hes weird so (of course) i feel deep affection for him.! the explanation isnt coming. i shift our topic, you nevertold me what happened to your hands.

! dude, no way. dont want to talk about it.


24/26

! you cant show up with two busted hands and not tellyour boy whats up.

! lifting the bandaged hand he says, bartending dude.sliced the shit open on a broken glass. piece of shit manager

wouldnt even pay for the e.r. guess my bad luck hasnt run out

yet.

! what about the other one? the one in the cast.! angles of his face pronounce themselves more as itsmuscles constrict in anger. after prying apart clenched teeth he

whispers, her. she took my hand along with everything else. i

cant even play guitar anymore.

! what? thats fucking heinous. she broke your hand?howd she do that?

! he answers gripping the center of his chest, she stabbeda rusty ice pick right here dude.

! his eyes have gone over the edge of the roof deck. heslooking west over the hudson river. at new jersey.

! oh, i reply keeping my voice calm, that fist found theother guys face a few dozen times?


25/26

! no dude. she was the only face in that equation for me.this fist found a cinder block wall a few dozen times instead of

hers.

! the gaze hes shooting across state lines should burnnewark to the ground. his apocalyptic stare rampages east

towards the loisada projects.

! he continues, when i think of her i can feel all the painand hate in this city. every white collar dip shit who just lost his

job. every hood mom who cant make rent. every junky in every

shooting gallery. i feel it all at once and want to scream it.

! but she took my hand so i cant even blast it through myguitar.

! i dont know what to say so i say nothing.

! eventually i decide to snap our conversation back to hismagical song. what song found you playboy?

! he smiles and thinks for a second, then sings softly, itonly fell apart cause you let it, all the blood you had to lose, pick

up the pieces with your broken hands, it only fell apart cause

you let it, all the blood you had to lose, pick up the pieces with

your broken hands.


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! the left side of my lips glide back as i half smile.! whos that? sounds pretty fucking metal.! damn fuckin right dude. lamb of god. gets me fuckinrad every time. metal is salvation dude. its magic.

! hes beaming.! happiness breaks through me. i smile with both sides ofmy mouth. i dont know what to say.

! i answer, were just kings being kings dude.**

(b.o.l.b., vol. 7) -knife fight-

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