Ingrid Leaves Vegas

by Rp Verlaine

Begins our long

catch-up call with

“Bill's call

never came like

a ghost fucking

a dream.

All a tease for

a wired cash loan

to pay a lawyer

I'd been had and left with no money.”

“What a wanker, did you . . .”

“There I was, No sex

and stranded. Fuck me!

I teased the kitty

with a Japanese toy

I keep for emergencies.”

“But did you . . .”

The batteries dying but

it worked well enough.

Despite the dry heat of

the desert outside

and broken air

conditioner in.

Reimagining old

misdeeds I

came to my past. Might've

thought of you . . .

Then dressed. Swearing

I'd never come back

to Vegas.

A hair-pulling tease

where the cash-out

is a bankrupt

kiss-off always sealed

with regret.

I packed the suitcase

looking both ways.

Hoping to skip out

on the bill . . .

or find a nice cop to talk

my way out of jail once

again. Went out the back door

hitched a ride . . . Then made it

home as is now obvious.

“But did you think of calling me in LA?”

“No, I didn't. Maybe I should have.

Anyway, if I see Bill

he's dead. I swear to you

with his horse cock and all

he's fucking dead

or worse!”

“Wait, he’s calling me

On the other line

I’ve got to get this.”

Rp Verlaine lives in New York City. He has an MFA in creative writing from City College. He taught in the New York Public schools for many years. His first volume of poetry, Damaged by Dames & Drinking, was published in 2017 and another, Femme Fatales, Movie Starlets & Rockers, in 2018. A set of three e-books titled Lies From the Autobiography vol 1–3 were published from 2018 to 2020. His newest book, Imagined Indecencies, was published in February of 2022.