the jazz mag as we called them

found on the street in Rome graphic novel of a vampire

with a cock that sucked blood from women from the inside

& a whole other catholic story i didn’t understand

in Rome as the escort for an older woman who was

supporting me financially being a poet of a bright future

this poor student with no income no family no nothing

all she wanted in return was me keeping her company

sharing her experience & her visions

we had one room one bed & one late afternoon

visions of jazz mag reverberating in my head

we spent an afternoon in there her taking my life blood

then i abandoned her by leaving quietly

going to France hitchhiking jumping trains

getting lost on roads lined with trees

later one dark night she threatened to kill me with knives

let me know how much hate she felt

how much of a let down i was as a human being

& then

a cold post card letters posted through the door

bold lettering if sparse

this morning your son was still born

the priest was there to give him his last rites