When he invited me over
I thought I was going to be
surprised by how normal
he was. You know? Like
How Steve Buscemi is super
weird, but probably not really.
but he answered the door in nothing
but a bear skin and great
sword. I said, I brought
My swimming trunks.
His hair was long, uneven,
and super greasy, and I thought,
you know, it’s fine, I’ve been there,
but he’s rich. Inside the walls
were totally bare and stone, and every
window was situated to let dual columns
of light strike the room gothically,
dramatically, with a cross in the middle,
falling on something ironic, or not ironic,
at exactly noon. You’ve arrived
at the humble, I pray, home of the artisté
Sean Bean, he said swooshing his cloak
to the left with a slight bow. Dude, what the hell?
I threw my tote bad on throne-like chair
near the door in case I don’t stay over.
the chair has eagle claws at the end
of the arm rests. Eagle claws. You never
act like this in public. Why are you
freaking out the first time you invite
me over? Ease into a bit! He pointed
the great sword toward me. T’is
because I only act in public.
I could see the pool and the teal
diving board through the patio
windows. It was so hot out today,
and he didn’t have A/C. The living
room, where we stood staring at each other,
radiated heat from the stone walls
to the point where you couldn’t touch them.
What say you?! I grabbed my bag.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He sheathed his sword, Don’t
go. We haven’t even gone swimming yet.
