Vulgar Talk - Jelisa Gonzalez

Don’t side eye me and think for one second that I won’t think you’d want to get in my pants. You’re tired. I’m tired. You’re such a fucking idiot. It’s 9:25am and bold for expecting me to hold a conversation. It’s not your fault that I’m not a fucking morning person. You try your best and I appreciate you for it. But don’t look at me. Don’t allow me to think about what it would be like to have your hands in my vagina, in my flaps. That does something to me, but not because I like you in that way, I might just enjoy the pleasure. I find myself on occasion imagining what your balls would look like against my mon pubis. As a woman, I find respite in the fact that I can’t see you over me but still, damn. It's like those conversations my roommate has with me about monogamy. I can imagine myself being drunk and going into a frat basement or room at the top of the stairs and asking a girl to make out and if she says no I’ll dub her a bitch but women are women and not bitches so I recede to grinding over a man that I would probably remember to only be two feet taller than me. And that doesn’t just go for you, it goes for anyone. 

You're watching me mechanically crank my jack in the box mind to make out the miniscule ass sentence you put out. And I still say “whaa” And I feel bad? And to that I counter, say what you wanna say. Smash? Ur cool? I don’t know but you wanna explore the jungle, you gotta alert security. Security probably napping, so you’d slip right in. Not that you’re a smooth criminal, you’d be the type to forget the lube and make up for it by jazz hand-sing your way out of it, then fingering me.

Jelisa has been writing for the Arch Literary Journal for about a year now. She's currently a combined student in the BA/MA program studying English. She enjoys writing poetry, reading fiction, and listening to music in her spare time. She is also a tutor at the Writing Center as well as a copy editor for the Albany Student Press.