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Meeting Bill Bill liked revealing his nipple ring to new faces. And telling the story of the tub, the hundred dollars, how as Bill drew water the man’s penis rose, and the blade, the penis nicked when the water was just below the head, how as one drop of blood hit the water the man came and Bill left without words or brush of skin. He waited after the telling for a deepening of the listener’s breath, a mouth hung open. And those guests who noticed, who spoke of the single drop of blood as a subtle or delicate measure, or asked if the trick smiled, if the money was in an envelope or spread on a table— for them Bill opened a vial, leaned close and on the nail of his pinky  offered coke, and only then folded the herons of his kimono across his chest, revealing the darker secret of his modesty.  ...

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