The second ceremony was not in the church, it was in a park, though the air was too cool for it. When it began there was nothing different about it; it was the same. The speeches and the songs were the same, the people were the same, the blood oranges and the food we could now identify: goat, rice and peas. A dessert we could see but did not know: fig, banana leaves, rice, coconut milk, honey, lavender.

The children played in the corner of the park behind the trees. A sermon, an exposed abdomen. It was the same. There was recognition on the faces, we were to experience this again and we were to enjoy it.

I tried to show enthusiasm.

The second ceremony was almost over. I knew it because it was the same thing. The things were carried; we got up to go. Once again we were reprimanded, like we knew we would be, we were stopped. Then something new—we were led to a fast food restaurant.

The smell of fried things was strong. The fluorescent lighting didn’t flatter us. We sat or stood where we could. Most stood. We weren’t hungry for this food, we had already eaten so much of the rice dessert and of the goat, but we ordered. One by one we stood in line, we received an order number, and we picked up our food from the counter. We collected the condiments, the straws, the utensils, and the napkins. We sat or stood to eat, we burped, and we didn’t speak a word.

FALSE LASHES

It’s hard to know where to begin. The bed was clean, and I liked that. The sheets were white; the pillowcases were white. The floors were wooden; there were twenty and thirty-five pound weights in the corner. A soy candle and a vase with dried flowers, a painting of a face on the wall. We sat on the white bed. It was a queen-sized bed, not a king. It felt firm and we sat close enough to touch. We didn’t touch.

We sat there at first. He talked a little. I had come to fuck; it was the only reason I had come. I didn’t want to talk, especially not about the extinction of any species, of a black rhinoceros. When I touched his hand I think he understood something.

And when we were done he touched himself and talked a little more. When we were done we were on the floor. I wanted to go but listened. And then I couldn’t listen and instead began to recall the way he’d bit me. The way I’d spread him, the way it felt before we penetrated, the goosebumps on his skin, the whole of his body.