had logo

Air Jordan 5 Retro t23 “Tokyo’s” laces tied behind his neck, a shoe hanging on each shoulder,

Bad Bunny squats at the edge of the stage & tells us he doesn’t take them off to fuck.

Can you imagine getting railed by the trap star, folded like a pretzel, to the beat of 2250

Dollar tennis shoes in synch with your moans? Synthetic rubber tapping on muscle as you

Edge towards a chorus of sorts, elation, everything. & if everything is a performance, even

Fucking, what is this body feral with want mythologizing (or failing to)? In a

GQ interview, Benito says the Jordan Tokyo’s don’t even come in his size. He,

However, got them for his child-self, still running the streets of San Juan in handed-down kicks.

I find out the biggest available size is men’s 12, which means Bad Bunny’s feet are immense,

Jumbo-jets of bone & flesh, just over 11 inches in length. This is the distance between my

Kneecap & ankle or my elbow & thumb. When you kissed me in your blue bedroom

Last winter, in low lamplight with shoe-shine spotted hands, & drunk feet

Making way to a messy bed of linens, mere inches of a clumsy waltz,

Neither knew much about the other. I, in fact, still get your shoe size wrong when I

Order you Crocs for your birthday three months late & you oblige,

Pretend for a few days it is okay if your heels peer over the rubber edge. This is the

Quotidian in the utopia—you lying about having to exchange them so we may

Relish the moment in which everything fits. Not unlike last winter, in the blue bedroom, when the

Sex was bad, but we couldn’t stop laughing, talking, & haven’t yet. What I mean is that I learned

To fit my whole hand inside your body & became a trap star myself. Air Jordan’s around my neck,

Untied & undone only when the ceiling above our bed dissolves and your hips turn

Vehicles for my hands to find themselves. What I mean is that after, your body tremors are

Water ripples, palpitating rings my flesh turned soft like music, &

You, slice right in like the plastic crown of a shoelace, built to fit through the

Zone of perforation, built to be pulled until the thread gives no more.