Jake aims for the jugular.

Just the jugular, not the person
-they were two separate things now.

Jake tells himself this only once but
with enough conviction so he can continue
and not feel ashamed for being bigger,
for being a heavy-weight.

The jugular
that droopy piece of flesh
looks older than the rest of The Body,
so tailored-taut.


The Body was from Tennessee,
grew up on grits before discovering Quick Trim.
Jake was the first person he met in New York,
a boy from Minny who lifted wallets in the subway.

Sometimes he dreamt about being swallowed alive by the ocean
it frightened him so much that he stopped sleeping
and drank at the pub down the street until he got shit-faced
and said and did some things he shouldn't have done,
until silky strands swept into his mouth
-but let's not say too much now.

Jake aims for the jugular.
When the fist finally slams into The Body's throat
The Body will feel like his windpipe had
just been crushed by a vice, his breath will catch,
sending him gasping, pupils dilating.

Instead of feeling wide awake
he'll feel like he's going under all over again.

*Written sometime in 2011-2012