Nothing Matters: A Noir Love Story Read online

  remember night before

  the last night sitting

  drunk on Z’s bedroom floor, Z trying

  to cut it out, gouging

  beautiful flesh, tattoo already

  excised & bleeding, a dying

  jellyfish on bathroom floor flopping,

  reeking, pulsing punches

  kicks hell out of there until

  next time always

  next

  time

  until

  watch as Z pulls heavy leather hold-all from trunk, carries

  it in both hands to room next to mine, opens

  door, swings bag in, follows it

  wait a few minutes & step out sky an impossible

  peacock blue, scant clouds trundle across it as if whole world a film set

  pullies dollies microphones twitching

  cameras swiveling in the distance,

  black tail whips over hillsides, stirs sand into djinn, demons, devils,

  birds, dizzy in thin air,

  flash & crash,

  disappear

  blinds drawn but one slat caught,

  flipped over

  put one eye to dusty window,

  close other

  heavy bag on bed, grotesque amputated crocodile Z stands

  in front of dark-green screen of television

  starts to undress

  kicks off cowboy boots,

  undoes a few buttons on floral dress—

  flowers tiny, pink & purple on white background,

  cherry blossoms in snow

  pulls down straps from shoulders, breasts

  small & perfect, stomach

  flat & pale naked beneath

  cotton inswing of Z’s sex, scant

  hairs chestnut & milk chocolate

  Z leans forward, breasts

  barely move, nipples

  erect in air-conditioned cool

  opens hold-all, takes

  from it paper bag, places

  it on bed, takes

  out another, places

  it beside first & another

  & another until bed covered

  in paper bags gaping

  cubic toads, stupid & prehistoric shadows inside baby crow in translucent egg

  Z walks to back of room watch

  Z’s perfect ass, cheeks moving

  in independent suspension hear

  shower start, cough, stutter & roar

  jets break & splutter

  as water washes over body

  try door handle it gives walk into room stroke dress, run hand over scuffed leather of Z’s boots, sniff them turn to bed paper bags sit squat on duvet pick one up, weigh it in hand, it has heft, volume open with two fingers, look in, reel back, drop it, open another, & another, put hand to mouth, shake head, each bag contains a human heart blackened & burned the

  scat

  of

  the beast

  breathe deeply

  need bourbon

  reach for flask

  bedside table

  look at Z’s

  roses in a vase

  nice touch

  nice

  bend down to smell,

  rid nostrils of reek of rent muscle

  flowers plastic,

  sterile

  walk to bathroom

  door open,

  walls color of boiled ham

  step in

  inhale steam essence of Z

  behind clouded glass door,

  see Z’s body,

  lithe,

  writhing in jets,

  tiny hammers on Z’s body

  remember first time we fucked

  on hands & knees,

  behind Z gently

  thrusting, feeling heat & clench

  of Z, shoulder blades jutting stubs

  of newly hewn wings flush

  of Z’s neck Z’s mouth

  half sneer, half smile

  trembling thighs

  aorta echoing in blood

  rollercoaster of vagus nerve

  as Z spasms

  spasm spasm

  leaning forward,

  in final thrusts,

  whisper into Z’s ear,

  “i have always loved you”

  Z looking back at me,

  hair hanging down, laughing, saying,

  “you always will”

  now, thru glass door,

  watch as Z washes hair

  smell mint excitement

  of Z’s shampoo; imagine

  spumy molecules running down Z’s back, over Z’s

  ass, streaming foamily down Z’s legs

  close eyes

  bang head on wall

  snap out if it

  walk back into bedroom,

  search thru things—smell of Z—

  vanilla oranges—overwhelming,

  dizzying—find Z’s

  longman grammar of spoken & written english

  open it,

  flip thru to basic structure of noun-headed phrases chapter

  here,

  chiseled into page headed

  “use of countable nouns in text samples”, Z’s ruger sp101

  take it out

  check it’s loaded

  step back into bathroom

  steam obscures view

  jets pounding in ears, in blood

  open door

  aim revolver

  Z isn’t there

  look up

  something skitters across roof, zigzagging, heavy

  hear

  jaws

  grind

  slowly

  wetly

  holding it down, struggling with it—

  beast held under water—

  now it reared up thrashing & snarling—

  memory of Z

  sitting in motel room, looking

  out into desert, sand rippling, dermis

  of giant worm, remember

  first proper day we spent together: sitting

  on banks of river waiting

  for Z, slipped silently thru trees, wolf shadow

  & smoke, black tail whipping somewhere over the treetops,

  held Z & held Z, touching

  Z’s soft skin, tasting

  Z’s lips, tongue entwined

  in hers

  after awhile, Z pulled away, looked

  with those wet stone eyes flecked

  with azure, said,

  “would you kill a man for me?”

  Z knelt down, unbuttoned, opened

  Z’s exquisite mouth knew that day, when memory loomed,

  days were over, would have to have Z

  Z’s long legs, arches of Z’s feet, those goddamn eyes

  last day together, after tearing

  out heart & spitting on it,

  Z had written a letter

  received

  burned & tossed into trash

  memorized it said,

  “i will not contact you again”

  insides belly-flopped—paraplegic samoan diver—

  looked at Z imploringly

  & Z laughed & turned away

  hit Z & hit Z & hit Z

  dreamed it dreamt it

  hallucinated it

  looked up to see black tail whipping over buildings

  now,

  in motel room,

  lift from the floor infinity symbol of Z’s black silk panties,

  sniff them,

  pocket them

  outside, sun dripping

  honey in translucent sky

  ring

  beesof

  dead

  Z’s car gone,

  tracks fishtailing out of lot read

  “follow me”

  do so always

  see Z gun machine towards babylon, its skyscrapers

  its ziggurats mere insects on windscreen

  babylon or theme park?

  tail of the beast foot on pedal,

  tongue lod
ged against teeth

  infinity symbol glistening in pocket

  imagine

  Z looks into rear-view mirror, eyes changing from grey to blue & back, mouth open seductively, cruelly, Z thinks of taste of X, sweet molasses, salty, ferrous, knows Z’s saliva

  is his insulin, his life babylon is where they

  are always going—proliferation of tongues

  In mirror, Z’s freckles are a million tiny planets—an explosion of mars & Z’s laugh lines

  are its canals Z runs hand up inside of thigh, one hundred miles per hour now & going faster, faster, slips finger into vagina, moist with thought of X, runs fingers thru X’s hair, pushes deeper, lips on hers car shakes, rattles, & moans, &

  a roadside sign says neverness one billion miles & Z laughs, throws head back trailing Z, eyes full of tears, hear it—isadora duncan’s scarf wrapping around the thunderbird’s wheels—gaining, pulling Z in, road swallowed—a long dark tickle of liquorice cock pulsing

  to engines pounding Z’s laugh again, a flock

  of doves heading into night, meteor burning

  out on distant planet all words

  in dictionary, falling ash & confetti

  on a lonesome iceberg adrift in unknown ocean

  Z looks back & shouts,

  “the feeling of looking in someone’s mind—

  of trespassing somewhere so private—is like rape—

  forget me”

  see burning coals of Z’s taillights—

  a stalking beast

  edge closer,

  howling in sorrow & dread

  know that something wrong has happened in world, something

  has come untied, gone adrift hear the chitinous rattle,

  the chattering of a million teeth, the dripping of saliva

  splash of dark red urine on windscreen

  one hundred miles per hour & heading for…

  The Late World

  …Babylon. That’s where I’ll do it.

  I wasn’t ready.

  The thing with the coals in the paper bags—

  that was to make him run.

  I could feel him watching me in the shower, see the shadow

  of his presence thru the steam and the droplets. The problem

  with X is… The problems with X are… Closure.

  Closure. Closure. Closure.

  I’ll close it, I’ll end it, I’ll finish this.

  I look in the rear-view,

  see the Thunderbird straining to catch up, to close

  the space between,

  to fold

  time.

  He remembers things differently.

  No doubt he told you about a sylvan scene,

  our riverine rendezvous—never happened.

  He fucked me in his scumbag bachelor pad—

  all noodle cartons and empty beer cans,

  New York Doll’s posters and chipped mugs,

  tattoo, motor, and girlie mags.

  What’s he told you?

  How we came together?

  How we came undone?

  The night I pretended to cut his name from my arm.

  Never there in the first place.

  Smoke and mirrors.

  An artist friend with a collection of colored inks.

  A gel pad from a brassiere. A

  mixture of ketchup, mustard, and brown sauce.

  As if I would disfigure myself.

  For him?

  His knuckles—HOPE

  and my name… a middle finger Z.

  Flip him the bird in the rear-view, see

  the Thunderbird’s lights shine angrily, flash

  and fade.

  See his raised finger—the inverted Z,

  the inverted cross around his neck.

  Babylon—city of ziggurats and hotels,

  of casinos and call girls.

  Home of gargoyles and flying monkeys,

  fake unicorns and faux dragons.

  Check in to the Notre Dame Hotel, watch the bellhops

  and porters squirm as I walk through the lobby.

  Set out my implements on the bed—

  the scalpels, the surgical twine, the ink,

  the Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English,

  the gun nestled inside.

  I’ll turn off the lights, leave the door ajar, wait

  in the delicious dark, my panties

  oozing with anticipation, my nipples hardening.

  One more was all I asked.

  One more body.

  Had his desire for me softened the one thing I didn’t want softening, the thing

  I saw in his eyes at the charity gig—that regressive gene,

  that surging

  need to escape himself? Before me

  there was no one and after me

  there were even more no ones.

  Nobody.

  No bodies.

  The last time

  we touched.

  I’ll order California rolls from room service—the smooth

  avocado, the salty crab, the cool cucumber, the smoky

  pepper of the tobiko. My breasts,

  his semen, my life, the flying things that live in the sea.

  Our first meal together—he had salmon roe, those

  perfect globules of first blood. Or,

  in their casings, a spent cock bruised and angry.

  My forever unfertilized womb. Raoul’s brains

  trickling out onto the sun-splattered tarmac. The collection

  of colored beads my mother left me—vermilion,

  wine red, scarlet, brick red, burgundy,

  pillar-box red, carmine, cherry red,

  carnation, claret, crimson, damask, garnet,

  magenta, maroon, oxblood, puce, ruby, blood red.

  Coquelicot—poppy red, poppy sleep, poppy dream.

  The tail whipping over the horizon, dangling

  from beneath the clouds, leaving tracks

  in the thin snow of the mountains.

  I can feel the Thunderbird closing,

  know its tick and rumble,

  hear him scream my name…

  **Z*!!!!!!!

  Know he’s thinking of my eyes—arsenic and old lace,

  ash and anthracite, battleships and submarines,

  Bosch and bistre, Confederate and Waffen SS, cinereous

  and seal-like, gunmetal and glaucous,

  ice and isabelline, silver and sable,

  platinum and porpoise,

  slate and steel…

  I gun the car, put distance between us.

  The towers and pyramids of Babylon rise out of the desert.

  The curve of the earth.

  Armadillos scuttle across the road.

  I swerve to hit them.

  Watch as thy bounce along the asphalt, roll

  to the roadside like severed heads.

  Hear X whoop and holler! Smile

  at myself in the rear-view—

  my pouting mouth, my lips

  flushed and full, the freckles like

  dusty stars in a pale pink heaven.

  Splash of dark red urine.

  Slip

  my hand between my thighs. The erotic

  brail of my stubble. Slip in my middle finger,

  slip

  in my ring finger, second-knuckle deep—just like X used to do,

  leave them there for a mile or so.

  Take them out.

  Taste myself.

  Vanilla sweat and orange-water.

  Open the Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English,

  take out the gun, run the cool barrel over my labia, rub

  my clitoris, put the gun barrel in my mouth, suck

  its length, replace it in the Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English.

  Look up… see the snail trail left by the black

  chitinous tail, spine-marks, vertebral signs,

  slime—

  the sign reads

&n
bsp; Welcome to…

  Babylon Burning

  …babylon

  flying monkeys wear bow ties, horses

  sport fake horns that make them look like unicorns

  slip valet a quarter shows the car, steaming with heat of desert, cool of Z shakes his head, his body trembling,

  “did you see those eyes, man? did you?”

  nod, touch his arm knowingly, &

  a tear drips down his cheek, & he says, “shark grey, rain clouds, & the silver

  of pharaoh’s egypt”

  say, “yes” say, “no”

  he leans forward, whispers a number

  say, “of course” say “anyone with?

  shakes his head ride elevator, walk along corridor to Z’s room door open walk in always following curtains closed room decorated in late-nebuchadnezzar style, smells of Z—ice-cream hurricanes

  cross room to read scroll hanging on far wall all goes dark come to, naked & tied to bed gag in mouth exquisite agony look down body—as much as can see—covered in millions of tiny cuts blood washed away

  Z steps out of bathroom,

  naked except for pair of high-heel

  snakeskin jimmy choo’s,

  scalpel, & mirror

  try to spit out gag,

  taste black silk of Z’s infinity

  X kisses cheek holds mirror

  face—a chaos of small incisions—Z traces first

  laughs & traces second,

  runs nail inside them,

  opens them up, so many oysters,

  licks blood leaking from them

  Z holds cock delicately in right hand,

  bends down to it,

  says,

  “you see?”

  saymuffled, “what is it?”

  Z bends closer

  can feel her breath on empurpling glans,

  feel eyelashes on receding foreskin,

  & Z says,

  “your weakness”

  black out black out

  open eyes from somewhere

  can hear 1-2-3 count of waltz open curtains

  let in pale lemony light & motes of dust,

  swarms of miniature birds

  see snail-trail of vertebra smeared across window

  look down

  at body

  cuts sutured with thick black cotton

  Z steps out from bathroom naked on high heels walks over to bed slow & easy

  straddles tightens gag

  saymuffled, “found you”

  “i don’t want to be found,” Z says

  “i want to be lost & for you to ever search for me”

  Z stares her eyes

  will describe can’t try moon reflected in water shot thru with hyacinth gunmetal kingfisher platinum periwinkle pewter & ice silver irises neptune’s grey dawn her left eye, off-centre as if Z were always on