Monday, June 29, 2020

Richie Narvaez


I don’t do divorce work, but Mr. Wynant folds his arms under the harsh office fluorescents behind his lawyer speechless with rage, and his sharp-suited lawyer says, “Mrs. Wynant’s going behind his back,” slides a check for 20 times my usual fee at the moment I’m late with rent, car payments, needed new brogues. “Get the evidence so we can nail her to the wall.” Three nights later, my rent, car payment, new brogues tumble out of Le Petite Crevette, holding hands, radiating chaos, giggling. “Got you,” I say, following them, finding and climbing the cold, jangly fire escape outside the paramour’s Bohemian apartment, filming them kissing, cuddling, clasping each other tenderly by the crimson glow of a lava lamp. At the climax of dawn, having secured my rent, car payments, new brogues, I get a six-pack of Old Düsseldorf, go home, celebrate solo. Next day, Mr. Wynant and his lawyer click “Play” and on the screen is a naked middle-aged man in the yellowy light of an incandescent bulb exhorting himself with a well-oiled Smith & Wesson Special. “Oh no,” I say, realizing something new about slippery flash drives, and the lawyer giggling says, “Is that — is that you?”

Richie reads "...Death #999":

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Richie confesses: "I recently re-saw the 1995 film I Died a Thousand Times, and wondered about what each particular death could be. This poem's death was inspired by cameras everywhere. Everywhere.

RICHIE NARVAEZ is the author of the anthology Roachkiller and Other Stories and the urban thriller Hipster Death Rattle. His next book, the YA historical mystery Holly Hernandez and the Death of Disco, is due out this summer.

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