Favorite color:

You have such gorgeous eyes!

Favorite food:

And such a brawny chest! And such expensive furnishings!

Favorite restaurant (besides Applebees):

Yeah, I admit it, I dated Adam for a while, but he was just way too demanding, physically, I mean. Always wanting me to act my book out on him. Really it was just too exhausting.

Favorite movie:

Do you live close by??

Favorite place in the world:

How much does your mother weigh?

Favorite thing about yourself:

How would you like to go right now to that cemetery across the street and fuck till the sun explodes all over our goosey flesh ??

Least favorite thing about yourself:

But let’s do a few shots first. Or ten. Or twenty. And dance around like meth monkeys. Or Dolly Parton’s breasts.

Flowers or chocolate:

Sure, why not? But only if you read me some Faulkner to really set the mood. Maybe one of his 12 minute sentences. I dunno. Maybe something from “The Bear”?? Something from the kill scene? I am so damned bored, kid. Please don’t let me snuff.

Favorite band:

O, yes—anyone who’s good enough for Tiger Wood is certainly good enough for me.

Favorite dead white person:

Wow! It’s a small world: I also like to slice my tongue open while shaving!

What do you look for in a potential mate?

Really, you’ve had no cosmetic surgery? No steroids? Nothing? And, OMG, did I mention these expensive furnishings? Purrrrrrrrrr. Purrrrrrrrr.

If you could work in any profession, what would it be?

Hold on a sec (playing hand on yrs)— WOULD SOMEONE PLZ THROW THAT GOD-DAMNED CRIPPLED ELEPHANT-DOG A PEANUT FOR CHRIST’S SAKE??— sorry about that, hun. And, now, where were we?

If you were a dinosaur, which would you be (besides pterodactyl)?

Is that Seth Abramson kneeling in the corner praying? And, O God, does he look hot. Mmmmmmm. Mmmmmmm.

What is your idea of a romantic evening?

Sure we can cuddle afterwards. Cuddle in a sonnet even. Or a bad Haiku sequence.

If you were a 90’s heartthrob, who would you be and why?

Yes, sigh, that was a difficult time for me. What I sometimes call my “Vanity Fair Period.” It hurts to even talk about it. (tearing up and touching face with napkin).

Why don’t you have a gmail account?

To hell with small talk we should just blow this place up and head over to Costco and stroll hand in hand through the Frozen Foods section and zone, finally, in on the forlorn and trophy seafood.

Do you have a favorite poem? What is it?

Cremation after prolonged torture. But I need to be in the mood, of course. A girl always has to be in the right mood.

Kiss on the first date? Why or why not?

These roses, again, are a wonderful touch. I’m going to keep their dust in a velvet pouch long after you’ve rotted in the cold dank earth. Thank you so so much. Thank you ever so much.

Do you think you’ll go to heaven? hell? limbo?! or live forever?

Foie Gras always works—and don’t mess around, kid. Just shove it right in my face.

If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do today?

Sure, I’ll call you. Yeah, definitely.

If you’d like to know more about this fine specimen, you can find Rauan at the No Thousands reading on Friday, March 8, at the Church of Boston. You can also follow his twitter, @Klassnik

Rauan Klassnik’s second book with Black Ocean, The Moon’s Jaw, was just released. His first Black Ocean book, Holy Land, was released in 2008. Rauan lives a quiet life in the Pacific Northwest.