Where the Octopi Hide

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Where the Octopi Hide

 

In dressers:

Beneath your folded underwear[1]. Eight legs stretching through the three[2]-hole fabric

 

Behind newsstands:[3]

Grocery store bags in hand, with a pair of sunglasses, leaning against a used grey van.[4] Don’t ask how its body was supported. It wasn’t.

 

In your esophagus:

Those late-nights when you can’t sleep[5], and feel something slippery inside you[6], suction cups against your ventricles, that’s it, they use your body[7] as a sarcophagus, right there in your esophagus, because they like to die in long stretches of tube that rhyme with ancient[8] Egyptian burial rituals.

 

 


[1] She is never coming back

[2] weeks since you last saw her

[3] it was the fourth. The papers claimed something about independence, freedom. things she ironically also exclaimed just last night, before midnight, with her beautiful black hair blowing across those red lips telling you it was “…”. You can’t even repeat it in your head. It began with an O and ended with an er

[4] You made love in there, next to used soda cans and bottles of fake spray tan

[5] even after a bottle of Nyquil

[6] and five glasses of jack

[7] she made you feel like you had eight legs and a head the size of your body,

[8] No more

 

 

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