Terrible Men Day!
Terrible men are outside, they're in love with you and they're outside. There's four of them. They're not dressed the same.
Terrible men hold letters promising their ashen hearts. Terrible men practiced all day in front of mirrors, practiced how far to drop their eyelids when the time is right to ask for your forgiveness. Terrible men are inebriated and they're sharing a bottle of liquor and they're swaying and yelling at your window. There's four of them.
Terrible men think most find them absolutely irresistable (many do). They are mean to female bartenders and they have secretaries (sometimes two). In a week of nights, terrible men will spend five alone, two with a woman, every week, without fail (it's true). Terrible men just threw a bottle of liquor at the wall next to your window (go to them).
When you open the door, terrible men, all four, they're fighting in the street. Then one of the four, he sees you (your nightshirt, your knees, the pee yellow light behind your hair) and he grabs at the others, tugging them into formation.
Terrible men brush the damp of the street from their suits and stand in a zig-zag. You look in their eyes and you know terrible men will die if you don't bring them in tonight. They say, four voices, in unison: Leigh. Please Leigh. I'm not gonna make it Leigh.
You wait just a moment, look away just a moment, just long enough to make terrible men boys. Then you lift your head to them. You warn them with your sigh that it can't turn out the way it will, not again. You step aside to allow the single file line of terrible men to climb the flights to your apartment. And you follow, shushing them when they raise their voices (the neighbors).
Happy Terrible Men Day!