I approach one because she is smiling, another because she's Young Adult Fiction, and another because she looks like a librarian. I wear lipstick, my hat cocked at a pleasant angle, and carry a bag of my books, a wallet full of fives, and enough personal money for a cup of tea.
Right now it’s January and frigid cold. To the point that when my fingers can no longer sign a book on a street corner without shaking, I must drift into a coffee shop to thaw out.
But I imagine how easy whoring will be in the summer. Then everyone will have soft bared skin and receptive souls. And of course they will all love to read. They will sense that I’m the next big thing coming down the pike. I’ll have wads of five dollar bills tucked in the pockets of my short shorts; maybe I’ll even wear high heels (if I can figure out how to walk in them by summertime).
My plan is to sell a hundred books in one evening. Maybe after a concert or something. My Johns will slip and slide on the thighs of my words. They’ll pay for the delights of my metaphors. Oh, I’ll give it to ‘em good. Yes, and then the royalties will come. Fast and hard like I always knew they would.
Published 2 February 2011.