“You would hide your bitten nails under the table” by Julia on the walk home

Friday April 12, 2019
9:45pm
5 minutes
The Intellectual
Benny Anderson

Well the jealousy found me. Always does. In the shape of a voice I would never expect. It sounded like sorry but stung like theft. And where does that tiny piece live now? In the back pocket of weak jeans? Clinging to a bit that solves my puzzle, otherwise used instead as coaster under tepid glass?

Why couldn’t I be loved like sister instead….lifted, whole.
It pangs at my hip.
Gnaws at the cut of my eye.

“You would hide your bitten nails under the table” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Friday April 12, 2019
8:46pm
5 minutes
The Intellectual
Benny Anderson

You would hide your bitten nails under the table. That’s what you’d do. You should’ve sprung for a manicure. Can’t remember the last time you did that. One of those places called “Chic Nails” or something, with TVs on the wall and so many tiny bottles to choose from. Flushing forty bucks into the toilet, but whatever. Lots of guys like that. Groomed nails. Whatever. You look at your hands and you see your childhood, your bad haircut and your ill-fitting jeans, cuffs rolled up. You have child hands. Drove your mother crazy, how you bit your nails. She tried everything. Told you she’d give you a dollar for every week you went without biting. “It’s nasty, Viv,” she’d say. You’re nasty, Viv. Why’d you say yes to this date anyway? He probably likes fishing. He probably has a hairy neck. He probably has pepperoni nipples.