Closed Mondays - Michael Internicola

Closed Mondays.

the girl from india left a lot behind.
she was moving to queens because
her roommates were going back to
europe. i was moving in. the place
was good sized. they left all the dishes
and glasses. they left a couch and
medicine and food in the fridge. the
first day we moved in she was back
and forth three times. she still had shit
to clear out she told me. around midnight
i got home from work. ronnie and frank
took the girls to shea and they were there
and so was she, “i’m sorry.”-she said and
i told her not to worry about it, “want a beer?”
- i asked and she said sure. her name was stecha
or something. we played music and smoked
some pot. got a couple sandwiches across the
street. billy called and said he was taking piano
lessons after he saw a foo fighter concert
at the hammerstein. whatever i told him.
last month he was a writer. the year before
he was taking acting lessons. maybe you
should just stick with one thing i said. i think
this is it he told me. his wife was worse off
with the polish accent and her breath always
stunk. i took the indian girl in the bedroom
and she watched me write for a bit. we had short
sex after that. it was pitch dark. she rode me a good ten
minutes. i talked dirty in her right ear. i never came
with the rubber on and when morning called she got up,
got dressed and fell asleep next to me again. she woke
up twice to tell me she was leaving. half past the hour
stecha told me. frank was in the other room with what’s
her name. he thought he liked her.


Michael Internicola