From "Otis Street"

We wander. We explore. We stand by a bed shielded by a gauzy canopy and watch a black man fuck a white woman. The woman is a set of spread legs with a split at the center. He is wearing white jeans, bunched at the ankles, incandescent in the blacklite. His backward baseball cap points toward me like an accusation. I want to place my hands on his shoulders, turn him around, and laugh, barking hard into his sweaty, meaty face. Will he hold her quaking shoulders afterward as she cries? Or will he already be onto the next?