Alicia

Alicia

I used to know a girl, Alicia.
I was 18, we lived in Australia,
But not together, officially,
I lived with her boyfriend and mine.

She hated me,
She was pink and clean,
They wore suits. He had known my boyfriend in London,
Overseas aussie, drinking jager and smoking spliffs,
But that was before.

Now he lived in Redwood, in square rooms with a corner sofa on a suburban street with a widescreen and a bong that he hid.
He gave us jobs,
We took the spare room, smoked and fucked loudly and never changed the sheets,
Until she did, placing my dildo under the pillow and collecting shirts to iron,
Sing-songing that it was no bother and raising eyebrows at the woman of the house.

He was Jewish and had a pot belly,
She never gave him blowjobs.
Their friends were moving in and getting engaged.
For her 23rd birthday we ate parmegiana with “the girls” and her mum gave her a book on Jewish cooking.

She was the only girl I knew so when I was crying on a street corner I called her,
She came to my rescue in her white convertible and I slept on her cream sofa and walked her white fluffy dog on its pink diamanté lead.

Eventually I left.
I heard that they broke up.

That was 8 years ago,
But I have her on Facebook.

She married, now she is Alicia Sanza,
Their wedding was pink and clean,
Honeymoon in Antiga,

Paradise…blowjobs?

She stayed skinny through her pregnancy with a perfect alien bumb.

Now they have twins,
I know their names,
I watch them in videos she posts and think my how they have grown,
She has no idea.

 

By Sophie Cragg

Image: Luisa Neves