Due to certain unspoken circumstances, a young American woman has decided to banish a slew of useless American suitors to the abaft region of her heart, making room for a certain accented gentleman, who shall remain unnamed. While the Americans served their purposes of affection masterfully, it was common knowledge that these suitors’ roles in this young woman’s life were expendable and thus, fleeting. Disappointed many times before, the young woman preferred to live her life by a mantra coined by a young doctor whose words have been the life source for many people for many years now: “Bitches ain’t shit but hoes and tricks.”
Though outwardly playful, peaceful, and content, abaft Chairman Mao lives in a perpetual state of corybantic existential crisis, constantly contemplating that he is but an expendable corpuscle in the great universe over which Mr. Funnyshoes will always preside.
Joan Benet Cruz:
A Hooker’s Haiku
Rich, desperate men
“Abaft,” I instruct them. Fast,
Emily “T-bone” Gadd:
This fetus is derived from neither pro athelete nor first cousin. Purely expendable tissue. she thought as she geared the crooked metal through pillowy layers majora and minora into the cavern abaft that would represent an internal tomb due to her lack of proper sucking devices to remove the fragments of a being that would have been nothing less than a constant disappointment.
“A whore? Why, if a whore can love at all it’s the expendable kind, a fleeting version of love whose expression is one of impatience and greed,” said the whore. “In the front of the whorehouse, yes, you may find lust disguised as deeper emotion.
But abaft, behind the closed doors of fate, you will find the unadulterated passion of the quiet businessman’s throbbing member, unsullied by the yearnings of the heart and mind. No, a whore knows not of love.”
The john replied, “But cannot a whore love like any other? If you prick a whore, does she not bleed?”
“That’s what she said.”