NOW SUFFER

At first, I felt psychosexual at dinner, I think, like a crime-fighting surfer or a monk in love with a nun. Am I using this word right? I felt invigorated and confused. This was our first date. Rita complained about the professionalization of the game show Jeopardy and men faking orgasms. I was unprepared for this—there’s nothing helpful in my notes—but I felt to be in the presence of a confounding worldview. I chewed and chewed on my bread. Later, she brutalized me in her bedroom, and then gave me a Dixie cup of water and some orange slices. The sun was coming up when I prayed to my late wife. I didn’t tell her everything, but she knew.  I evacuated my memories. It was safer that way. Prayer is not a conversation.