Third Floor Walk-up

by John Hayes

In a vacant building on Mount Street near Hollings, she trades two blow jobs for a nightly fix. One for herself and one for her boy friend. The guys are regulars. Sundays she hears them read poetry at the Corner Grind where she works part-time for tips. Weird poetry. They call it “objective.” She likes their dope, which unlike their poetry, is always good. Not quite the best but good. She tucks their payment into her bag. Hustles to her third floor walk-up where her boyfriend waits. She hopes he worked today. Last Wednesday he stuck up a convenience store. Got enough to pay the rent. Now they need cash for cigarettes and beer. He needs bullets. He's been working with an empty Glock. They need a fresh cartridge for their printer. She has a paper overdue for her astronomy class. He's drinking beer when she enters, a stack of greenbacks on the table. She gives him a sloppy kiss, drops her purse into his lap.

As she gargles, he liquefies white powder. Gargling finished, she retrieves their needle from the stand beside the bed. Needle in one hand, his penis in the other, she taps a virgin vein. Two blood drops puddle red. She smiles, punctures between her toes. Returns the needle to the stand. Her scruff receives sweet kiss. Depression gone, her gray eyes view a world serene.

John Hayes gives poetry readings, acts, and directs in Community Theater. He appeared as a scurvy-looking corpse on Homicide and as a shopper on WIRE. Seven of his one-act plays were produced.

The MacGuffin, The Meadow, Flesh and Blood, Aoife's Kiss, Thema, BareBone, Modern Haiku, Writers Journal, Premonitions, and Wily Writers are some of the magazines that published his work.