Sinclair's DinosaurJennifer Bartlett
3. In the darkening room, she Fit #3 You will never come out of your room and we take turns shifting around your anger. Unable to bare the pain of long pants any longer I put on the boy's shorts to go down to dinner. I look entirely stupid. But, I've gotten into New American Writing, so my outfits now are officially irrelevant. Red wine and white wine. Salmon Royal made on his mother's grill the best bread ever. Potatoes with good salt and rosemary made by Jim. B.'s fried green tomatoes. Salad. Tea and cheesecake. Happy Birthday to B. My mother would never ask me what slice of fish I wanted. What is the world coming to? I'm annoyed because the guest [in beige] is a terrible dresser and hates the Catholics. And her date makes some statement when I tell him Jim is an atheist bicyclist, and I can't tell if it's sarcastic or not. And then B says we are all bicyclists. And I say me too. And the weaver looks at me like I have lost my llama. How can a cripple ride a bicycle? I know he's thinking. He has long, flowing gray hair, and Jeff asks him if he is a man or a woman. I try to explain that Jeff is really open about gender and his godfather is gay, but it comes out all wrong, and everyone just gets confused because the weaver's not gay anyway. The dinner partner in beige has disappeared. She has been gone for a long time. She reappears in a state and makes a show of having to go home. And everyone says warm goodbyes. And Jim and Royal will watch the zombie movie and the rest will sleep. Kurt complains when B. offers to turn the heat on. He wants to sleep in a cold room piled with blankets, his insistance on saving the universe. Yet, when I go on and on and on about bicyclist helmets laws and recycling and disability rights and teaching and drug laws and the election. He goes on and on about how I am wrong and he's a libertarian and he doesn't believe in the seat belt law and he is bothered by the woman in beige because beige and beige and beige don't go together. And we continue like this for awhile. And he jumps on B. for something, I can't remember what. He says he is tired, and that I am too political and he wants to rest. I want to fuck him so badly. [Or] merely want to be able to tell someone. But, JH is so far away in Africa packing the last of the things, and we have not settled onto the details of the piano for his godson which has been a two month project. No gossip can come until the piano is bought and sent.
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