barbecue flux hinkley pants smell like wood smoke 050402 ... kerry it was in north philly off cecil b moore, i guess you'd call it brewerytown, west of temple campus. crumbling victorian houses with iron deco birdcages around the front doors and peeling paint, long-closed stores with quaint signs dangling (mermaid cleaners). we should have taken the bus, i said. how many more blocks? you said you wanted to see new parts of town, he quipped, and we were both sweating, there were men playing dominos on the sidewalk and girls walking swinging their arms, and zombies in the shade of trees in front of the library (also closed). people at the barbecue: -the host, a huge happy-faced man with his locks tied into a sprout on top of his head, turning meat on the barbecue and dragging on a newport 100 at the same time -his wife, voluptuous in a red and white striped stress, braless, red painted lips and bright white teeth in a triangle smile, offering punch and beer and fizzy water -gangly woman with blue-framed glasses and oversized sneakers on the old loveseat in the back patio, asking for help from whoever would listen about how to dump a "stinky bitch" she'd just slept with -guy still in his work uniform, delayed reaction to everything, awkward but harmless, says he's white at work and relieved to be black again -black stormy cloud of curly hair on top of a childlike saying maybe she'll have her reverse bat mitzvah to celebrate turning 31, wearing denim shorts so small you can see her ass, so worn-out with holes you can see the stars tattooed on one cheek -sitting in a corner rolling a cigarette expertly laughing at everything everyone says but looking like she might not really understand -tall and slim in a black tube top and high waist shorts, an afro, her man lingering beside her never speaking but always smiling i drift from patio to living room to bathroom couch to couch cluster to cluster half in and out of conversations, knowing only one person, i feel tired and keep topping off my drink, i forget to eat except one hot dog right when we arrived, before the party really got going. our lyft driver, henrietta, wanted to hear our stories. asked us if we smoked, i guess wanted to bum a cigarette. she told us she was 68. she said philly used to be so safe, she'd walk down broad to macy's and windowshop as a girl. the mattress is bare so we put on the black sheets. the cat is chatty. i'm exhausted, i lie down and the cat comes sits by my face, purrs and puts one paw on my shoulder. my feet ache. he rubs lotion onto them, looking out the window, not speaking. i never let people touch my feet, but i shut my eyes and half drift away. he jokingly scolds me for being hungry after a barbecue. of course the fridge is empty. he says i'm good for him, i say tell me why, and he does. i say tell me why you care about me, and he says he can't, it's ineffable. 230905 what's it to you? who go blather from