A Higher Calling

Henry in his Queens apartment at 9AM ready to go out for a walk in the city.

It was fall night at the end of October, Indian Summer before the cool arctic wind descended on the East Coast. 

Henry dressed to go, wearing a black suit with a white t-shirt and Converse low tops. 

And so on and so forth—total horse-shit, Henry writing mindless on automatic-pilot allot, writing dumb shit, thinking of Michael McClure for a second— a guy dressed up in a t-shirt and suit wearing an inverted wooden cross, looking priestly, selling Catholic angst about masturbating alter boys to Hollywood.   

Henry in his Queens apartment, unable to get out of bed, broken-hearted, drunk and junked up plenty— dumped by May(a non therapeutic sex working Asian chic and junky sucking every cock that came down the pike at Lee's Massage in Queens) regardless— still the best cock sucker in the universe. 

Henry wanting to be anywhere but in realty, drinking and snorting eight-balls, fighting it (realty) off, unable to look reality in the eye, he didn’t belong there.   

Henry the junk king in a dream, a million fingers massaging his cock and his soul lomi lomi style all at once, decidedly carnal and out of this world. Stuff that would scare the 9 to 5 stiffs.   

At 2AM May shows up at Henry’s apartment, screaming as she pounds oh his door, he lets her in. May looking shaggy, crying and begging him to take her back. He says, “You know I love you May but I sit at home in the day thinking about you sucking cock at Lee's Massage.”  May then says, “Yes I’m a cock sucker baby, but it’s a kind of higher calling for me, I feel that I make people happy, that I bring joy and happiness into their lives.”  

Henry dumb-fucked, sorry he let May in, getting a sick felling inside, wanting to escape somehow, unable to get a handle on cock sucking as a higher calling. Saying to May,” Baby thats wonderful, I’m happy that you have found G-d in your own way, well, my parakeet collapsed in his cage and I’m heart broken, baby I’m going to lay down, you better get back to work sweety, I’ll call you later.”

Henry feeling over powered, knocked out by May’s heart felt shtick, what could he say? May doing G-d’s work, it was something bigger than him, who was he to call her out? 

Henry a junk on crazy pay,  he was nobody to judge.