“ I have always known that you will visit my grave.I see myself as a small brown bird,perhaps a sparrow, watching youfrom a low branch as you prayin front of my name. I will hear yousound out my epitaph: Aqui descansauna mujer que quiso volar.You will recall telling methat you once dreamed in Spanish,and felt the wordslift you into flight. The sound of wingswill startle you when you say "volar,"and you will understand.”

“Perhaps you have visited my grave and flowers left, but did you hear me cry out to you!”

“Open your eyes and say my name.”I squeeze them shut more tightly.“It would make my cock hard to hear you say my name.”My eyes pop open. “Jericho Barrons,” I say sweetly.He makes a pained sound. “Bloody hell, woman, I think a part of me wants to keep you this way.”I touch his face. “I like how I am. I like how you are, too. When you are…What is that word you used? Cooperating.”“Tell me to fuck you.”I smile and comply. We’re back in territory I understand.“You didn’t say my name. Say my name when you tell me to fuck you.”“Fuck me, Jerricho Barrons.”“From now on, you will call me Jericho Barrons every time you speak to me.”

“They say you fear what you don't understand. Maybe that's why every time I'm in South Florida, and I hear someone talking in Spanish, I always shit my pants.”

“...I will exile my thoughts if they think of you again, and I will rip my lips out if they say your name once more. Now if you do exist, I will tell you my final word in life or in death, I tell you goodbye.”

“If my name were Mememem, and I had just ran into someone who should have known my name but couldn’t recall it, I’d probably say, “I can’t believe you don’t remememember my name.”