Adam Fieled



Conceptions #3


One of my quirks, Natalie told him, is that
I like to pretend I’m a porn star. She ran her
hands through her lustrous dirty blonde hair,
which ran in a fringe over her eyes. They
watched the movie in silence. The cinematography,
at least, was top notch. She had friends in it,
as usual. She was bored with L.A. She was
bored with sex, too, and with this guy. She
could’ve painted him, in her painterly days.
He was delicately manly. She was teasing him.
Sort of. He had no real moves. But she leaned
in close nonetheless. It’s just the Hills, Ms. Ennis,
she thought, and I’m both on top of them and
not. Twenty minutes later and a few more tokes
(why does every shot in this movie have to have
Christmas colors in it?), and she decided to get
on top of this cold fish, this “hill,” just for fun.
Of course, he barely noticed. But she was pesky
because the movie was boring and she liked
working on hot and cold fishes. He was
nonchalant, nonchalant (much to her amusement),
but when he saw her topless (only Bs, darling,
sorry), he finally snapped, and she was marginally
less bored. He went so far (Oh, darling!) as to
more or less tackle her. But he hesitated again;
her jeans were still on. I love playing these scenes,
she told herself. She had him roll off so she could
pull off the jeans, and surprised him (I’m just full
of surprises) by pulling off her panties too. Then
(oh, dear) he went limp for ten minutes (the credits
are rolling, darling). Finally, the spirit moved him
and they were doing it, right on the floor by the
TV. She was stunned that he had the nerve to pin
her arms down. Oh, what daring! But when he
started to come, she actually felt it shoot into her—
his fucking condom was torn! She almost screamed,
and felt that the Lord was punishing her for her sins.
As it crept up towards her stomach, she felt a perverse
sense that torn condoms were a metaphor for her (and
their) lives, and he obviously couldn’t tell, he wasn’t
pulling out, and it seemed to be mysterious to him
why his “O” was feeling so good, so long, so hot, so
intense. Oddly enough, she came too when she came to.
She’d be leaving L.A. shortly.



Adam Fieled is a poet based in Philadelphia. He has released five print books: "Opera Bufa" (Otoliths, 2007), "When You Bit..." (Otoliths, 2008), "Chimes" (Blazevox, 2009), "Apparition Poems" (Blazevox, 2010), and "Equations" (blue & yellow dog press, 2011), as well as e-books like "Beams" (Blazevox, 2007), "Disturb the Universe: The Collected Essays of Adam Fieled" (Argotist e-books, 2010), and "Mother Earth" (Argotist e-books, 2011). He has work in or forthcoming in Jacket, Cordite, Pennsound, Poetry Salzburg Review, the Argotist, Great Works, Decanto, Tears in the Fence, Upstairs at Duroc, and in the & Now Awards Anthology from Lake Forest College Press. A magna cum laude graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, he also holds an MFA from New England College and an MA from Temple University.
 
 
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