Half Drunk Muse Poetry


Camper Van Girls by Jalina Mhyana

She’s there every night outside Ramstein Air Base, on the driver’s
side with the interior light on, waving to every car passing by.

She’s eerily automated, programmed to smile and nod to us
while reapplying make-up in the rear view mirror.

Who stops here with a fistful of euros, watching her spray the last man
from her skin? I want to be the one knocking, the one on top, in back of the van.

My friends have done this in Korea and Thailand, where fifty bucks
buys you a lover who doesn’t speak English, who cleans your house

and cooks for you. Where is the twenty year old boy with soft
skin I can buy, where is he, and could I do it, knowing it was a chore

for him, could I bypass the female urge to please, make myself
the center of his universe, forget that he’s on the clock?

Women don’t do this, it’s ghastly and unbecoming, it’s uncompassionate
yet it might be liberating, like the massage I had in Roppongi with the

girl suspended from the ceiling who let her bare thighs split
on my back, and I felt her naked sex on me, and how she kept

twisting my nipples and smiling and asking if I’d like to keep
going, we were oily and she was petting me, petting my breasts

but I was nervous, I grabbed my friend from the waiting room
and talked all day about her squeezing my nipples and what would

have happened if I had paid the 4,000 yen I wonder, because maybe
one day I will. Maybe I’d like to buy it, so it’s really mine,

that I would own a whole person for an hour and I could fantasize
we’re in love, desperately—all those pretty things women must

believe and if there was a young guy sitting in that camper van
waving to me, I would slow the car, drive laps around him, dream.

View bio for Jalina Mhyana Published in Winter 2005

About HDM

Half Drunk Muse was one of the first poetry ezines. It was founded in 1999 and ceased publication in 2006.

Questions/comments? Email samiller@halfdrunkmuse.com.