12:09 AM - Cinderella turns back into a whore. Black Cadillac Escalade into her shit rust stained Toyota Tercel. $400 Vera Wang gown into a cheap black polyester dress she found on sale at WalMart last week. Her brown roots tell the lies of bleached blond hair. The four seasons ballroom into the bar on Ludow Street. She and Prince Charming sit across from each other, rising tension, smoke circling them like sharks from the quick burn of the cigarette hanging off lips. Her fingers are wrapped around the wine glass just a little bit too tight and she's already on her third glass of Merlot. Cinderella goes home with less than Prince Charming at 12:16 AM.
12: 20 AM - Cinderella and Prince Charming stumble through the streets together. The passer-byers are pretending to ignore them. Six blocks to Prince Charming's apartment. Cinderella knows what's going to happen, it happens Saturday nights to girls after a few cheap gin and tonics. Like most graffiti it comes off with a little water, a little acetone, some elbow grease, and a lot of tequila. Five blocks to Prince Charming apartment. He tries to put his arm around her in an attempt to make things look genuine. Cinderella notices he smells like the Cuban corner store owner on twenty third and east. Bitter blends of charred tobacco, wrapped in brown skin and dark green aftershave follow at his heels.
12:30 AM - Four Blocks to Prince Charming's apartment. She does not know his name. He looks handsome, like the Marlboro man. He hasn't shaved in three weeks. She knows she can't do better. Her bachelor's degree in Women's Studies got her as far as a secretarial job. Her boss tilts his head to conspicuously stare at her breasts, the bald crescent glitters at her. At some point she wanted to be the next Gloria Steinem, the next Elizabeth Cady Stanton. She was going to eliminate the income gap, write books, give speeches in Iraq. Two blocks to Prince Charming's apartment.
12:40 AM - They don't talk. Prince Charming takes air into his lungs; they expand within his chest and contract. He thinks of something to say to her. The weather, politics, garbage on the city street, welfare, Brad and Angelina'a torrid affair, how he feels he has a personal relationship with his savior and this is only a temporary thing. Three breaths escape from his lips and he moves a couple of feet away from her. One block to Prince Charming's apartment.
1:00 AM - Red Stained blossoms drip off of trees next to Prince Charming's building. His hand forces its way into his pocket to find the key in between folds of denim and corduroy. Forcing it into the lock it clicks into place and the door respires in protest when it's opened. He places his hang on the small of Cinderella's back and pushes her thought he doorways.
1:05 AM - Prince Charming's apartment is dark and they stand waiting for the other to move into the dim hallway. Most of the bulbs had burned within themselves weeks ago. His arms open like roads and Cinderella falls into the distance between them. Bones are like bumps, and potholes, crevices care dangerous curves between the neck and collar, the hipbone and thigh. There are no signs; they make up the directions as they go.
1:25 AM - she is trying to talk herself out of this as it is going along. Ten steps to the bedroom. If only we where built out of something stronger than blood and bone. if only we could find our way home after being lost for so long. The only thing left is her body that only works one way,
1:30 AM - Stars hang from strings outside of the window. The moon grins a Cheshire smile. Cinderella and Prince Charming sit on opposite ends of the bed, they can make love, they can have sex, or they can simply fuck.
1:32 AM - Prince Charming pulls off his shirt and pulls down the top of Cinderella's dress. It's only hormone's, testosterone and estrogen. They do this everyday, in their houses, in their closets. These are the clothes they put on in hopes of taking them off. She lays down, she thinks of rainbows and rabbits, kittens and flowers. They fuck.
2:00 AM - She is a prototype girl, with a microchip on her shoulder. She just wants to feel like she has some sort of purpose in the world, she'll never feed a small country, or save children from burning buildings, or even help a cat down from a tree. She is taking up space and forgetting to breath, using the air nonetheless.
2:40 AM - She fakes it. He comes. Billie Holiday sings "I'll be seeing you, in all of those familiar places."
2:53 AM - Moonlight stains the windows, burning images in his flesh. Pink magnolias blossom, bearded dragons, and Charles Bukowski utters "What matters most, is how well you walk through the fire." Their bodies woven in between sheets, condom wrappers on the pillows like hotel mints. The act contained within a small piece of latex.
4:45 AM - The city is sad in the morning, the gray forgotten fog drifting. The beasts begin to pull themselves through the belly of the city trading oxygen with carbon. The intestines pulled apart by the A train heading south. Cinderella wraps herself in her dress, picks up her shoes and walks out of the door, down four flights of stairs, five blocks to her 5 by 10 studio apartment. This could be your apartment with the chopping block kitchen, this could be anybody's apartment.
5:00 AM - Twenty, fourteen, nine, steps. The doorway.
5:06 AM - Cinderella sways in the threshold, old paint is peeling. Six steps. Her wrist turns counter clockwise, the bolt slides in the opposite direction.
5:14 AM - Her dress discarded into the sea foam green plastic Rubbermaid trashcan. Four steps, the water closet.
5:20 AM - She sits on the toilet, last years vicodene bottle in between her sticky thighs.
Monday, fifteen pills.
Tuesday, twelve pills.
Wednesday, seven pills.
Thursday, six pills.
Friday, two pills.
12:01 AM - Cinderella turns back into a whore. One pill.