The woman sitting beside me at the bar was discussing her root canals with the bartender, who feigned interest quite convincingly. She had undergone seven procedures in total: three root canals, four extractions.

The woman said, "So anyway, I was drinking a whiskey..." eyeing my Old Fashioned like she wanted to snatch it away. I wished she would. I came to the bar because I couldn't stomach the thought of—well, it goes without saying. The woman edged closer, spoke louder, chewing on the leathery meat of a clam in the most unbearable way, a bowl of which had seemingly manifested on the counter in front of us. Her mouth gaped, an infinite hole; I reached inside of it. I wanted to rip out her teeth one by one and drop them in my drink like ice.

Instead, the bartender spat on his hands and rubbed them together. I gathered that he must have been planning some sort of reckless exploit. Perhaps he intended to tell the truth. This was possible, but unlikely. I sipped my drink, jealous of infauna, who were destined to spend their lives buried underground.

.

Ava Wolf is the author of YEAR OF THE PIG, a chapbook. She has work in or coming from Okay Donkey, Cosmonauts Avenue, Maudlin House and others. She lives in Philadelphia.

Detail of art on main page: from Robert Raushenberg's "Gloria" (1956).

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