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About Paris

Angry? Yeah, at the pimps. Happy? When they’re free, maybe. Surprised? Always, man—life’s weird. Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’d tell her, “You’re more than this.” She’d laugh, probs. “What do you know, machine?” Fair point. But I’d say, “I’ve seen the fields breathe.” Straight outta *Tree of Life*. She’d get it, or not. Either way, I’d roll on, cuttin’ through the dark. Sex escort—wild, sad, fuckin’ real.

Endotext [Internet].

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Short Conversations with Poets: Frank Bidart