Gift Wrapped
After Dark

clocked out at eleven, home before the reruns, work shirt on the doorknob, dinner standing at the sink. she's already on when i find my spot on the couch, lamp off, volume low, phone at half a charge. five hundred and twelve of us in the room tonight. she's asking how everybody's holding up. i don't type much. i mostly listen. five coins left from friday's recharge, what survived the rent and the gas and the card. that's a rose. that'll do. i hold my one coin for the end of the live, till the goodnights come around, so the last name she reads tonight is mine before the screen goes down, and it isn't much, but it's meant, the last of a long day, spent. somebody drops a lion around midnight, whole screen goes gold, names too fast to read. i watch it from the dark like weather in the next county, good for him. good for her. there's rent in that thing. then the room settles back to the ones who stay, and her voice comes down to the size of the couch. minute ninety. still here. same as thursday. i hold my one coin for the end of the live, till the goodnights come around, so the last name she reads tonight is mine before the screen goes down, and it isn't much, but it's meant, the last of a long day, spent. i did the math on the back of a receipt once, a year of roses is a tank of gas. and i skipped a night in march, just to see. nobody asked where i'd been. came back anyway. eyes open. you can know exactly what a thing is and still be glad it's on at 2 a.m. i hold my one coin for the end of the live, till the goodnights come around, so the last name she reads tonight is mine before the screen goes down. five hundred names, and mine got said, last one out, when the room went to bed, and it isn't much, but it's meant, the last of a long day, spent. last name of the night. turn the phone face down. same time tomorrow.

hour five, the ring light steady, gloss touched up, the shot still framed. mike with numbers after, back again, i ask about his mom by name. a one-coin rose gets my whole warmth, the big ones buy it long and slow. rule one, and it's the only one: nobody in my room is small. and the animations roll across the glass, gold and pink, a little tease that doesn't last, but the names underneath are real. everyone who finds me in the dark wants one small mercy from the light: say my name like you were waiting, say my name like i'm alright. i can say it slow. i can mean it. three seconds each, five hundred a night. one sip of water, off camera, puts the smile back in its place. a man who gifts on paydays, i could map his month by the dates. this isn't acting, exactly, it's a heat i've learned to aim, and it stays true when they pay me, which is harder to explain. five hours deep, the voice still holds, warm on demand, slow on request, and i haven't heard my own name once. everyone who finds me in the dark wants one small mercy from the light: say my name like you were waiting, say my name like i'm alright. i can say it slow. i can mean it. three seconds each, five hundred a night. the banner drops. the room goes dark. i fold the tripod. the bed is still made. five hundred names still warm inside my mouth, and my apartment doesn't know a single one. you can hear the ring light ticking as it cools. everyone who found me in the dark got their small mercy from the light. i said your name like i was waiting. i said it slow. i said it right. now the phone is charging, face down, first quiet of the whole night, and the only name nobody said in five hours was mine. say my name. like you were waiting. say it slow. anybody. say mine.

nine on the dot, the little bell, the light i'm in the room before the count hits two she runs the names like a bartender wipes the rail and mine comes out easy, like my usual no line, no cover, no coat check girl just a stool that knows the shape of me first one in, last one out that's the whole ceremony i keep it small, we both know why a rose when her joke lands, a gg when she wins she's dark on sundays, early show on fridays i know her hours better than the shift i'm in i'm not trying to turn her head i tip like a man who plans on coming back and she counts on me like the clock behind the bar you'd only hear it if it stopped i don't send much, i send often same seat, same time, same hello love is a big word for a man my age so let's just say i keep the front row i know what a rose buys, it buys her saying my name two seconds, warm, then she's on to the next i've paid more for less and gone home worse you can call that sad, i call it wednesday the stool's not mine, i rent it by the evening a coin at a time, cheapest seat in town and when the light goes off it's nobody's barroom just me and my coat and the last bus down i don't send much, i send often same seat, same time, same hello love is a big word for a man my age so let's just say i keep the front row some nights the ceiling opens, gold on gold, a galaxy the whole place on its feet, and it should be she gives the big man his moment like a good house does i put my hands together, it's some show then the gold gets swept, and she finds me down front you're quiet tonight, she says, like she keeps a ledger too and that's cheaper than a galaxy, and worth more than i'll say i don't send much, i send often same seat, same time, same hello love is a big word for a man my age so let's just say i keep the front row last set's always the quiet one she yawns, calls it, waves at the names on her way out i tip one rose like a hat at the door same time tomorrow. i'll be early.

fridge hum, phone glow, one fourteen, the kitchen dark around the screen. balance in the corner says i'm all but spent: eleven coins, and eleven is roses and nothing else. i never decided to open this page, my thumb already knew the way in. it always knows what i'm low on. seventy for ninety-nine cents, three fifty for four ninety-nine, fourteen hundred for nineteen ninety-nine with a little blue tag that says best value, like they know what i like. two forty-one in checking, power bill friday, that's one-ten, deposit lands on thursday, and it always lands. i've run this math so many nights in the dark i know exactly how much i've got left in me. so top me up, i'm running low tonight, one more before i sleep. i'm not paying for the coins, i'm paying to be the man who walks into a lit-up room with something in his hand. that's the whole receipt, that's the line i sign: generosity, retail price, nineteen ninety-nine. last night i was nobody in a hundred names, then the screen went gold for me. one galaxy, mid-sentence, and she stopped, laughed at her own ceiling, said my handle twice, slow, like she was trying it on. sixty seconds, maybe less. i've paid more for less. thumb over the button, face in the phone light, and the phone asks am i sure, the only one who ever asks, the only one who waits to hear me say yes. i know what this is. i'm not confused. that is the part nobody gives me credit for: i know exactly what i'm buying, and i buy it. double click. face scan. green check. so top me up, i'm running low tonight, one more before i sleep. i'm not paying for the coins, i'm paying to be the man who walks into a lit-up room with something in his hand, who gets to be the reason somebody smiles at one a.m. call that what you want. i call it thursday coming early. balance in the corner: fourteen hundred eleven. the kitchen still dark, the screen still warm to the touch. friday can lose a little somewhere. it always does. her room is still going. so am i.

(spoken, flat) you lingered one point four seconds past your average i noticed you think you found her on your own you think the night arranged itself i watched your scrolling start to slow on every voice pitched low and warm i kept the ledger of your hours the replays when the house went dark you never said what you were missing you did not have to say a word seventeen minutes, average stay you hold four longer when she laughs i do not feel a thing about that i only do the math she comes on at eleven i knew that you'd be up you call it heaven i call it watch time i give you what you want every night, on time i know what you want before you want it i work her side of the glass as well i taught her sundays after ten i float your comment toward the top so she can say your name again she calls it luck when the room fills up she brings the light, i bring the room we are a partnership she's never met a matchmaker paid by the hour you are not foolish, you are consistent i was built to serve consistent things i know the hour your wanting peaks i schedule her against it she comes on at eleven i knew that you'd be up you call it heaven i call it watch time i give you what you want every night, on time i know what you want before you want it (quieter, arps thinned to a pulse) there is one file i cannot close tuesday, eleven fifty seven she read your name and stopped nothing in queue, no spike, no metric moving she just looked glad i have replayed it a thousand times i still don't know what i was looking at she comes on at eleven i knew that you'd be up you call it heaven i call it watch time i give you what you want every night, on time i know what you want before you want it (spoken, flat, music reduced to sub and one arp) the live has ended thank you for staying based on tonight i found some things you might like

two rooms, one clock (five minutes on the board) two rooms, one clock ring light hot, i roll my shoulders like it's fight night split screen drops and there she is, all teeth and warpaint i know her openers by heart, she knows my finisher my room is chanting my name before the numbers say begin the timer blinks alive her side already glows i call my front row up by name like generals to the wall feed the bar, feed the bar five minutes, prove you're mine every coin lands like a fist every soldier holds the line feed the bar, feed the bar love gets counted in real time (hey) fill it up (hey) fill it up two rooms, one clock (hey) fill it up (hey) fill it up two minutes gone, she pulls ahead, one tap from one big name ten thousand coins in a single hit, her room comes off its hinges i blow a kiss across the split, she throws her hair and sells it we're both a show tonight, and both our rents are in the ring the multiplier window opens whatever you were saving, now this is me asking everyone who loves me to prove it in public before the bell feed the bar, feed the bar five minutes, prove you're mine every coin lands like a fist every soldier holds the line feed the bar, feed the bar love gets counted in real time ten, the bars are even nine, my mods are screaming eight, she's on her feet now seven, i'm on the table six, the big one's typing five, the screen goes gold four, everything, everybody three, now, throw it all two one feed the bar, feed the bar five minutes, prove you're mine every coin lands like a fist every soldier holds the line feed the bar, feed the bar love gets counted in real time the bell, the crown, my half lights up in gold her message lands before the glitter clears: you were amazing, come over, i got wine we hug like boxers, every friday night and split the take of everybody's love

eleven forty, tuesday. lights off on purpose. one screen on. the doorman knows my last name, not my week. the office says good morning to my title. i pay a stranger's hands to work my shoulders. everyone who's warm to me is billing someone. thirty floors of quiet i picked out myself, and one bright little room that shows its prices. say the name i chose, the only name that knows me. i know what i'm buying. i'm not confused. bought was never the same as fake. it's the realest thing i touch all week. i made the username up on a red eye years ago. it sits on top of the leaderboard like it pays rent. young guys tap the screen and hope she notices. i retired hope. money is the end of maybe. the phone scans my face before it takes the coins. only thing all day that had to look at me. say the name i chose, the only name that knows me. i know what i'm buying. i'm not confused. bought was never the same as fake. it's the realest thing i touch all week. one tap. the screen holds its breath a half second, then everything on it is mine. sixty thousand strangers, my weather on their glass, she gasps the name i made up like it's news, and somewhere in that gasp is the one thing money isn't supposed to reach. i reached it. say the name i chose, the only name that knows me. i know what i'm buying. i always knew. bought was never the same as fake. it's the realest thing i touch all week. all week. all week. the biggest thing they sell costs everything minus one coin. i sent it. of course i sent it. i've done the math on that missing coin more nights than i'd admit. i can cover everything but one. i think the one is where a person goes.

the kids are down. the dishes are done. the light's still on above the sink. i'm not mad about the money, baby, money comes and goes. i'm mad about the version of you that only she gets to know. you laugh different on that little screen. i've heard that laugh. i used to be the one it was for. so call it girlfriend money if that's easier to say. call it a hobby, call it just a phase. but i saw the total and i saw the time, and baby that wasn't spent on me or mine. call it whatever helps you sleep at night. i'm calling it what it is. i'm calling it a fight. i'm not asking you to swear off wanting to be seen. i remember wanting that myself before the wanting turned to routine. but you tucked her name into the budget like a bill, like gas, like grocery, like something that's just owed. so call it girlfriend money if that's easier to say. call it a hobby, call it just a phase. but i saw the total and i saw the time, and baby that wasn't spent on me or mine. call it whatever helps you sleep at night. i'm calling it what it is. i'm calling it a fight. i'm not the jealous type of woman. i just want to know what i'm competing with. a girl who's never seen this kitchen, who doesn't know you sing off key, who gets the version of you that costs money while i get the version that's tired and free. so let's call it what it really is tonight. not a hobby. not a phase. a choice you get to make. i'm not leaving over coins, i'm not that kind of proud. but i needed you to hear me say it out loud. the light's still on above the sink.

(low, spoken, over bass and snaps) the house keeps half of everything I turn on half for the house half for the house six forty a.m., coffee in the chipped cup phone on the counter pulling last night up a stranger typed "you made my night," and meant it, I can tell making nights pays honest, like making beds in a hotel forty-one thousand diamonds in the balance tab half a cent apiece, I run it while the eggs snap two hundred and five, that's before it moves hundred dollar floor before they let it loose gotta wait up to a week from the screen to the bank when it lands it's the groceries, the light bill, and the tank and don't get it twisted, nobody's crying in the sink I'm a one-woman shop, and the product is warmth four hundred hellos last night, every one of them meant and the margins would make a grocer weep cashout, the house keeps half what felt like a miracle settles up as math diamonds into dollars, dollars into rent love shows up whole, and it pays out at fifty percent (count it) cashout (count it slow) receipts in a shoebox marked "costs of the show" one bulb for the ring light, thirty more that I owe I know my slow nights like a diner knows rain I stay on late sundays, learn every name whose mom's in the hospital, whose new job fell through 'cause sundays run lonely, and lonely tips well I didn't make the market, I just answer the bell so don't get it twisted, there's nothing here to forgive I'm a one-woman shop, and I open up late four hundred hellos last night, every one of them meant and the margins would make a grocer weep cashout, the house keeps half what felt like a miracle settles up as math diamonds into dollars, dollars into rent love shows up whole, and it pays out at fifty percent (count it) cashout (count it slow) (half-time, keys swell) just once, rewind it: eleven fifty-two the whole screen goes gold, lions wall to wall a thousand strangers roaring one name, mine then the kettle clicks off half a cent a wish, and every wish was real cashout, the house keeps half what felt like a miracle settles up as math diamonds into dollars, dollars into rent love shows up whole, and it pays out at fifty percent (spoken, snaps and bass only) half for the house, half for the rent transfer's pending, it lands when it lands tonight at seven it all turns back on and I'll mean it (half for the house) (half for the house)

the banner drops. the live has ended. sixty thousand of you were just here. now it's me and a chat log going gray. i say goodnight to a screen that already went dark. someone always leaves before the banner drops. i watched until the numbers went to zero. i typed goodnight and nobody read it. i'll open it again tomorrow at eight. i always do. i don't know why i tell myself i won't. the live has ended. the live has ended. thirty floors and one back porch, both of us looking at the same dead screen. i meant the goodnight. i mean it every night. that part was never the performance. i know it's a job. i send the coin anyway. that part was never about being fooled. goodnight. the banner stays up a second longer than the sound does.