Skinship script

A man like a market can surprise you.
Study him carefully while he uses your face
as a mirror, a screen.
What part of me can I give you to sell?

I couldn’t afford to live alone.
Do I refuse a loan (life) to avoid debt (death)?
My debt to you arrived early.

You taught me to see my own limits.
I wanted to run towards them
and there you were.

You assured me the market could regulate itself.
Together we started a free trade in memory.

Beauty can fool you into thinking you like someone
when all you really want is to possess them.
The market opened our mouths and spoke.

Some men never loved me. I didn’t care.
Their names sounded like answers.

The dark of not getting what I want.
The dark of getting it.

There had never been more jobs that paid so little.
My political question to you: who is desired, who isn’t?

People say we’re too skinny, but never think to feed us.
The problem of work. How to survive my own death?
It’s not your debt that immobilized me, but silence.
And there are so many silences to be broken.