Trade
A young man approaches. He is different from the others, more alive, more alert, aware.
He offers that he has seen me, been watching, desires a closer acquaintance.
He has taken an interest, become taken with an inspiration, an intuition
that we may share intimacies, may have a joining of paths to negotiate.
We walk along the river, out of public eye in the darkness.
He proposes a business partnership, pimp and prostitute with a twist.
He will provide a discreet address, a living space and place of trade
where he can bring customers who will not be missed.
We will share in what valuables these clients provide.
I will have privacy, daylight seclusion, certainty of living blood.
He will be the face that public sees for financial arrangements.
One last, most essential term of contract, he insists.
“Not now, not for a very long time, but when the time comes,
you will turn me. You will promise me immortality; and
I will be your loyal friend for life.”
We do not sign a legal bond in ink nor blood. We vow,
each aware of how easily the other could betray and
destroy us.
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