ANTHONY MARTINEZ BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Anthony Martinez
23 years old
Auburn CA
$30

Met at Pink's
Blew him in the restroom
Fucked me

he said he was going to go
get a hot-dog
with extra mustard
and some blow

Had been with women
Get checked November
Call Nov. 13th

MIKE MILLER BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Mike Miller, 24 years old
ALLENTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA, $25

One of my games -
two telephones
in an abandoned diner
and he picks
the left receiver.

I whisper
him undressed -
his shirt, his jeans, his socks.

From the hotel across the street
I watch him work
his soft cock hard
through Eschenbachs.
I talk him off.

And he hangs up on me.

He'll find 25 bucks in the coin return slot.

WILLIAM CHARLES EVERLOVE BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

William Charles Everlove, 28 years old
STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN VIA ARIZONA, $40

He was never here
He never came
He was a ghost

I was never intimate
I never inhaled
I was alone

Somebody was never in the room next door
Somebody never heard
Somebody was in Texas

He was never anyone
He never lied
He was nothing

I was never told where he went
I never cared
I was important

CHRIS BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Chris, 28 years old
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, $30

As I learned early
to draw the dollar -
an 's', 
some numbers
and two vertical lines,
with Chris it was simple

It was like he had rehearsed.
His small hands
unfastening my button fly,
reciting a four times table
by rote.

We met no more than seven times
according to my diary
when he 'disappeared.'

Afterwards, my journeys west
grew short. I felt
his breath behind my neck the one time
in the car and saw his shadow
in the parking lot

lengthening towards me.

DON SPINELLI BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

His white sox. His post-soccer,
post-baseball attire. He removes his shorts.
Don is the captain of the football team
and I am the same nerd I ever was.

I start at his upturned toe,
lifted to make it easier to take in my mouth.
I am squeezed to the floor. His spit.
I am told I am worth shit. I pay extra for this.

Sometimes we never go further
if that is his wish.
I perform to his insults and fists. I am trained.
We meet in derelict factories.

His gay for pay eyes. His girlfriend at home. 
She counts my dollar. His dick.
His will not love me so I will not love him.

IKE COLE BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Ike Cole, 38 years old
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, $25

On aisle 3
you can buy milk
and you can get butter
and cream and cheese
and yoghurt

On aisle 9
you can buy Frosted Wheats
and you can get Corn Flakes
and Nutrigrain bars
and Coco Pops and Lucky Charms

On aisle 2
you can buy plums
and you can get cabbage
and spinach and thyme
and habanero peppers

On aisle 15
you can buy frozen peas
and you can get fish fingers
and potato waffles and swede
and oven fries

On aisle 7
you can buy vodka
and you can get Bacardi
and tequila
and Napoleon brandy and bourbon

On aisle 4
you can buy kitchen towel
and you can get toilet roll
and bin liners
and make-up and sterident

A moment where you forget
what you were doing with your life
and you've left your wallet in the car
and you are holding bread and beers
and you are meeting Ike at 6

On aisle 10
you can buy peanuts
and you can get pretzels
and crisps and Mini Cheddars
and Pringles

On aisle 6
you can buy lemonade
and you can get Coca-Cola
and Pepsi cola
and cherryade and bottled water

MAJOR TOM BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Major Tom, 20 years old
KANSAS CITY, KANSAS, $20

He'd scratch at the track marks
on his ankles and arms.
He never looked at anything anywhere
for more than a second
and made me nervous.

I think I loved him like a movie star,
like anybody you'd see in a gossip column.
He kinda reminded me
of the corpse of River Phoenix,
as if he'd been laid out for the tourists.

I tried to see him less and less
and each time he shrank.
Last time he was bone
and when I stroked his skin
I swear it came off in my hand.

He only wanted to see himself in a magazine.
He thought he'd be astronaut by now.

ANDRE SMITH BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Andre Smith, 28 years old
BATON ROUGE, LOUISIANA, $30

Dusk. The coin falls drip.
A plastic palm frond shivers in the breeze
of an opening door that closes
on a scuff of dust.

Outside on the parking lot, Andre,
a black youth, muscle gilded bronze
in sunset, waits
for somebody to get lucky.

The drawers glide out and in.
Silver stacks and slips.
It's a well oiled machine.
In a motel, lubricant prepares the skin.

ERIC HOLT BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Eric Holt, 19 years old
SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO, $25

I'd call Eric on Fridays, some time
after midnight when the news
and a bottle of Jack grew stale
bedfellows.

I first picked him out on the Boulevard.
Drove him the cool night road
out of town in the convertible
with the roof down.

I think of Eric. The smell of his hair.
The way he sipped his water. His cock.
I feel shame, but never stopped
him coming.

MICHAEL GOMEZ BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Michael Gomez, 34 years old
CHICAGO ILLINOIS, £30

Hello Michael, it's me. Is that you?

Could you come over tonight,

I'm feeling pretty scared?

No, don't turn on the light.

Don't turn on the light.

Turn it off.

What is it you're smoking these days?

Would you like to bum

one of mine? Don't turn on the light.

A bust heater stuck on high.

White cotton. Sweat in his elbows.

Please Michael, don't turn on the light.