Ray

XL

FOR no clear reason Ray will have it out with the plants in his place. His anger comes up when he looks around at the expensive greenery and all the deathly care people give to plants when, if let alone, all plants are fine. Plants can talk, he’s heard: “Eat me. Eat me.” That’s all Ray’s ever heard. Anybody besides Ray see Little Shop of Horrors? A great plant in some creepy Jew’s flower shop starts calling out, “Feed me, feed me!” He eats people. So the Jew goes and accidentally kills a number of people and their faces appear in the blossoms of the plant.

Ray has lost it. He kicks over the plants and yells abuses. Mainly, it’s because his poems are not going well and he still can’t come anywhere close to old J. Hooch.

Westy comes in. She’s disturbed.

“Are you drinking, Ray?”

“No. Get me a drink.”

She’s wearing beige sandals and her toenails are maroon. She has a glass of milk with her, reaches back with it, pours it over the crease of her buttocks and fetches my tongue in.

I’m as earnest as an evangelist when I mount her.