There’s a space between us, I shout, but Cammie thinks I’m speaking in car-lengths. Above us, an aluminum net sparks & whirrs. We pin a young boy’s bumper car into a corner & laugh like Kansas is on fire. She says she likes my gold stripes, the way they sparkle like busted headlights on the turnpike. We park our vehicles & I tell her sometimes I try to write & 2% milk pours from my head. She buys an ice cream cone from a man with three disparate chins. I say I’m lactose intolerant, but I hide it well & she lets rocky road drip in between her knuckles. We stand in line at the teacups & decide that sitting in dishware is for ladles.
Barbara cuts my mess into a pompadour & I feel like James Dean or Rihanna for a moment. There’s a line that stretches into the road, so I ask her if she’s ever been to Finland & how long she thinks my sideburns should be. She tells me yes, & in Finland they have bare faces. I think about bending her over a booster seat, but instead say it’s Tuesday—nice weather, for a Tuesday. She agrees & stencils a flame into the side of my head. I pray to the ceiling that she landscape my hair with her fingertips just one more time. She brushes my face with a towel, & I pray for a power outage. I pray it rains sideways so we can dance like broken clippers in the street.
We begin telling dessert stories over the phone every night. She says I ordered a panorama-pumpkin pie & turns a faucet on, somewhere. I ask her what’s that, but she’s too busy licking her lips & touching her thighs. I plead with her, ask her to describe what she’s wearing. Striped stockings, she says, & I imagine a body made of melting carnival cake & sprinkles. I tell her about the dietician that lives next door, & she calls me naughty & bad, bad boy. I whisper high fructose corn syrup into the receiver. I swear I hear her head explode.
This is an excerpt from I Fall in Love with Every Attractive Woman I Meet by Dillon J. Welch. To fall in love with more of these stories, check out his e-book. Some of these poems first appeared in PANK Magazine.
Dillon J. Welch is a writer from Southern New Hampshire. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in CutBank, ILK, Jellyfish, PANK, Phantom Limb, Switchback and other journals. He is currently an Editor for AMRI and Poetry Editor for Swarm. Find him at www.dillonjwelch.com