We’d arranged to meet under the High Line,
Outside the Whitney; I was running down from
This photo shoot in Chelsea so I had
My clothes stuffed into a hiking backpack
And I was naked except for stilettos.
Felix was coming from choir practice.
He was tall, very thin, ginger-nut hair,
A two-vest situation, naked below the knees.
Hi, I said, glistening from the running;
You must be J.’s friend. Shall we fuck?
The ginger nut didn’t say anything, eyes white.
I stuck out my hand. He looked at my updo. Hi,
He said. I’m in three choirs, did J.
Tell you? One’s way in Harlem, that’s the one
I like best, the other two down here, one at this church
In Tribeca, the other one’s sort of Midtown?
He had this soft, moony Irish brogue.
Two women in actual pillbox hats, tweed suits,
Wheezed past me on their way into the museum.
A bus divulged tourists.
Another wave of day campers, Day-Glo T-shirts.
Wonderful, I said. Shall we fuck on the High Line?
He looked at the Hudson River. I’m—seventeen?
Aisha Sabatini Sloan
Episode 22: “Form and Formlessness”
In an essay specially commissioned for the podcast, Aisha Sabatini Sloan describes rambling around Paris with her father, Lester Sloan, a longtime staff photographer for Newsweek, and a glamorous woman who befriends them. In an excerpt from The Art of Fiction no. 246, Rachel Cusk and Sheila Heti discuss how writing her first novel helped Cusk discover her “shape or identity or essence.” Next, Allan Gurganus’s reading of his story “It Had Wings,” about an arthritic woman who finds a fallen angel in her backyard, is interspersed with a version of the story rendered as a one-woman opera by the composer Bruce Saylor. The episode closes with “Dear Someone,” a poem by Deborah Landau.
Rachel Cusk photo courtesy the author.
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