Mercy

second. A second stretches out past hell and when one is over

another comes, longer, worse. It got dark and I dressed

m yself—that night, ten thousand years later, ten million years

later; I dressed m yself and I went to the club and M was

serving drinks and his friend the pied noir was there, the

handsome fascist, the gunrunner for the O. A . S., and this time

he looked at me, now he looked at me, and it was hard to

breathe, and I was transfixed by him; and the noisy room got

quiet with danger and you could feel him and me and you

could see him and me and we couldn’t stop and the fuck we

wanted filled the room even though we didn’t go near each

other and he was absolutely still and completely frightened

because M might kill him or me and I didn’t care but he was

afraid, the great big man was afraid, and I wanted him and I

didn’t care what it cost ju st so I had him, and M said take her, I

give her to you, he shouted, he spit, and I walked out in a rage,

a modern rage that anyone would dare to give me to someone;

me; a free woman. Outside there’s an African wind blow ing

on the island, restless, violent, and there’s perfume in the

wind, a heavy poppy smell, intoxicating, sweet and heavy.

The pied noir is deranged by it and he know s what M did and he

is deranged by that, he wants me with M ’s nasty fuck on me,

fresh like fresh-killed meat. God is the master o f pain and He

made it so you could love someone forever even if someone

cut your heart open. I wait in m y bed, I leave the front door

open. I want the fascist; I want him bad. I am fresh-killed

meat.

S IX

In June 1967

(Age 20)

One night I’m just there, where I live, alone, afraid, the men

have been trying to come in. I’m for using men up as fast as

you can; pulling them, grab, twist, put it here, so they dangle

like twisted dough or you bend them all around like pretzels;

you pull down, the asshole crawls. Y ou need a firm, fast hand,

a steady stare, calm nerve; grab, twist. First, fast; before they

get to throw you down. Y ou surprise them with your stance,

warrior queen, quiet, mean, and once your hands are around

their thing they’re stupid, not tough; still mean but slow and

you can get gone, it takes the edge o ff how mean he’s going to

be. Were you ever so alone as me? It doesn’t matter what they

do to you just so you get them first— it’s your game and you

get money; even if they shit on you it’s your game; as long as

it’s your game you have freedom, you say it’s fun but

whatever you say you’re in charge. Some people think being

poor is the freedom or the game. It’s being the one who says