The Infamous Shaira

Everyone in my life recognizes

That Shaira was a very special person in my life

Except Shaira, who has reduced my importance

To the occasional Facebook message

And wouldn’t make the trip for my funeral

Let alone my wedding

But everyone is dying to meet the infamous shaira who

When asked about my time in Korea

Was always the protagonist

Even her name now brings to mind

Four or five anecdotes

Worthy of a captive audience and a fair few chuckles

Poignant silences, groans

They say they’re curious to meet her

Dying to even, and that according to my stories

There’s no one in the world like her

That she’s very unique

But the stories come less and less easily to me


Vicki’s Revival

Working at that hole in the wall museum was weird

I was either paid to sit in the dungeon by myself

lighting incense and pretending to cast spells

or i was sitting with a stranger for eight hours

i ended up hating all of them by the end of my shift

except one of them –


Vicki and i liked to talk about feminism

mental institutions, people we hated and then

our darkest secrets, dreams, fetishes

and then the more intimate details

of our living situations and before we knew it

she was pushing me onto the ferris wheel at the carnival

and then letting me off again when i started crying

because, fuck you vicki, i’m afraid of heights

and i was using her as a shield at all the haunted houses

then before we knew it i was gone

and she was off to college


then I started working

at the college she was attending

and saw her running down the hall

neither of us had money that night

so we sat and talked over two glasses of water

for hours and hours and hours


We were one upping eachother

and I was hoping that she’d win

because every time she told a story

i nearly pissed my pants

then we were standing by her car

and her hand was fluttering to her chest

saying Georgia, this was so nice

can we please do it again

then we figured out that we can

we can at least get water

every Tuesday at ten