Micrograffiti: What This Is by Michael Wolfe


What This Is by Michael Wolfe

“We could fuck,” Sam said.

“Then what is this?”

“Killing time. Feeling crummy.” Sam pressed the man’s face against the woman’s concrete cartoon ass. “Remembering why we shouldn’t leave our wives.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Not driving my stepson to school.” Sam forearmed the back of the man’s neck.

“I’m not married.”

“Not cooking the wife banana pancakes.”

The man stepped out of the jeans bunched at his feet, replanted.

Sam gripped the man’s shoulders. “Ruining every hotel lobby, every airport terminal,” he said. “Everywhere we’ll bump into someone attractive.”

“Don’t shoot in me.”

“Thinking what all we can get away with,” Sam said. “Scoot forward.”

“Or on my jeans.”

“Wishing we made good money so we could get a room.”

“Let’s go on a trip. We could have the whole weekend.” The man pushed off the wall and turned his head so Sam could see his lips. “At the beach.” Light rolled at them from the left.

Sam locked his arms around the man’s stomach and his own chin jerked toward the ceiling. Soon the world above them would happen. He rested his chin on the man’s head. “You need a haircut.”


Michael Wolfe lives in Albuquerque and doesn’t always write about sex.


Micrograffiti is a project edited by Stacey Swann. The writers were asked to respond with fiction to Ben Walters’ photographs of the South London graffiti tunnel. Click here to read more >>


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