Twolips

Remember how our tongues swam

like two eels playing Twister?

The Private Dance #4

She caught a man from across the room; her sticky-eyes cooed him behind the black velvet curtain. Her mind wandered as she rhythmically rocked her body on his excited lap. When

Expensive Brownies

The Saints Cried with Her #3

The professional dancer went to mass on Sundays, and always tithed her ten percent. She knew all the saints by name; each had their own special prayer. When she lost her keys,

The Dance #2

On her dressing room mirror she taped a portrait of Marilyn, inscribed with one of her quotes, “The body is meant to be seen, not all covered up.” When the dancer walked on stage,

The Virgin and Marilyn Monroe #1

When asked her occupation, she would say “professional dancer,” she preferred the ambiguity and it was far more respectable than “stripper.”

The Batting Cages

    I had just turned fifteen, had no money, and since I didn’t want to get stuck driving the rusty hatchback rotting on the side of my parent’s house, I got a job working at the local batting cages. Most of the time, I just chain smoked behind a tattered net, watching the softball girls in their tight spandex shorts. The college guys that worked inside the shop were amazed by how much I smoked for fifteen and my habit earned me the nickname “Smokey.”

Expensive Brownies

    I stirred a bowl filled with gooey brownie batter as my accomplice Christian looked over my shoulder. “So how much should we put in?” I held up a zip-lock bag filled with pot. I had just graduated high school, moved out on my own, and was ready to try any mind altering substance that came my way.

Gang Shooting

If you ever doubted my ‘Old Pat’ stories, here’s a little video to add to my street cred.  When I was about 19 two blood gangs started fighting at a warehouse party we were throwing and a guy started shooting into the crowd while I was filming. My friend Christian (aka. Meatball) was shot in both legs. Police swarmed the scene while another friend almost got in a fight outside, but you can only hear it because I stopped filming to break it up…Thug life.

Trouble with Authority

    Whenever I ask my friends if they would care to join me for a cup of tea, or when they see me reading the latest issue of Poets and Writers, their response is usually the same, “Man, Old Pat would kick New Pat’s ass!”