Excerpt -- The Roller Rink (novel-in-progress)

The house is warm. I melt in my pants. I'm hot like a red river hog going after tree fruit. My pink knees are hot and pink. It feels like I'm bleeding, but I'm not. I'm tired is all. I'm full of stallion. I'm full of viper. I need to get laid.

The miracle worker is on the job. I can call her but I can't. She doesn't like it. 
The phone screams. 

I know who it is. No one calls but him. I let it ring. I know what he needs. It's like sex the way he needs it. AIDS and I'm the cure. His fix. I am his light. I open the fridge. The milk is bad. 

I remember cigarettes and milk. 
The fat and the smoke, the way it mingled. The way they danced on my tongue and in my lungs and in my pants. A jar of pickles. Yellow mustard. A radish. I bought it but I didn't want it. I ate its brothers. Devoured, skinned, and suckled while the moon hung over the mountains.

The phone screams. 

​I laugh.
Just a little bit.
Then I laugh like a red river hog, then I pick up the phone.