Seth Stephanz

The Advent of Hysterical Capitalism,
Accompanied by Cornet

Cameron came over and we watched
The Thing and The Fall in the living
room and talked for a while

about drugs that we’d done and
that friends had done and
Wikipedia and fucked. We both kept

kind of laughing while making
out and then would pause and ask,
“What’s up?” which became kind

of a joke in and of itself. I’m not
particularly attracted to him
but I don’t want to be alone in this

house by myself. Tomorrow,
I turn twenty-four. Yesterday, a fraud
detection agency

contacted me about
$287 charged to my debit card
in a liquor store in Binghamton, New York.

It was declined but I was still a little
shaken up about it. I went to go
for a run to clear my head

about things the morning after
worried I only had $20 in cash
and no food in the house

and it took about a week
to get a new card. Plus I have a date
with Zach in a couple days and have

already agreed on paying because
he’s driving in from Oshkosh, which
is really the least I can do for him. I’ll

probably just blow him if it gets
down to that. I don’t know.
Maybe Mom will be able to

lend me some cash, although
I don’t really like to ask
for money even as a loan.

“How is your night going?”
“How was your [most recent holiday]?”
Not “Are you here with anyone?”

There is a dry barn burning in Tennessee
within an echoing heat set up in late July. There’s
a ship off the coast of Dubai. It’s sinking.

Singing. The world burns
the same fire as the mind. Cherokee
plays out of a pink house’s window.

What do you say
when a man buys you
five shots over fifteen minutes

and then asks you when he’s leaving
if you’re coming with him and when you
say no tells you you’re coming with him?