Page 118 of The Black Flamingo

---

I’m there for three hours alone, slowly sipping

a rum and Coke, phone on the table,

Moleskine open on a blank page, Cross pen

refusing to speak. Until, finally:

Maybe I’m a Merman

Maybe I’m a merman.

No sea witch stole my song.

I decided to stop singing, to avoid

the attention it was bringing.

I have no home under the sea,

I’ve always lived on this land

but I look out as if there were

more for me beyond the shore.

I have not found the man

of my dreams, nor am I

the man I’m expected to be,

but maybe I’m a merman.

Maybe I have a tale to tell.

Maybe I have a spell to break.

My merman voice is broken.

My merman song is spoken.

I look up. I see Simon and Simon sees me.

He pauses before coming up to me. He says,

“My brother didn’t give me a blow-by-blow

account but he told me enough and I figured

the rest out. I don’t think it’s the start

of something for you two, it was just one

of those things he needed to do.

I’ve known him all my life and he’s not gay,

he just feels a lot of things. People would

---