I am without secrets
words
are
whiskey
raining over the bookshelf
wetting pages
which
like our histories
we bring but
do
not
open
and just as in
so
many of those moments
I ask
you please stay
with me
even after
the
night's
last
breath
my witness
to the iminent
muffled
rumble
of tomorrow morning
Friday, November 19, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tuesday Night Rosary
The white window flashed on the screen ahead. "U got any racier pics?" asked the boy he had never met.
Maybe I do. He fumbled with the mouse.
Moments later. "Ur really hot. I've been wanting to try something. U want to have a 3-way?"
Another window appeared. "Worst day ever," said an old friend. "My mom had a stroke."
His heart panged. Clung to the inside of his ribs. Wedged in his throat.
A stroke? A stroke. This is it. After so much time that she's been sick, it's a stroke. This is how it ends.
"Oh my God. I'm sorry. Are you OK?"
Not far away two family members of his own were dying, wilfully of old age, tired and done with life attached to machinery, artificial organs, wheelchairs, plastic kidneys and iron lungs.
The first window flashed: "The place is just a few miles from here, u want directions?"
And just a few miles down the highway his mother wept at the fact that that two people she grew up with were dying. He felt for his mother, but he hardly knew his older relatives and gave their deaths only passing thought.
yeah, I'll come over when I want AIDS. He frowned and leaned forward.
"i don't like 3somes," he typed in the first window.
The second window flashed. "plus, shitty day at work. I just scraped my knee, ahhhh! and my phone just died and I'm waiting for a really important call about my mom."
Then the first window... "Well the guy is hot. Here, let me send you pictures"
God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He typed, "Are you OK?"
"...my problem is that I don't have a place. so if u don't want a 3 way, we can meet at this guy's when he's not home."
"No. Not really. You?"
God. I'd do anything to fix this. Anything, if it were possible.
"I'm really sorry. Who is supposed to call you?"
"It's really ok to use his place."
I love you. I love you! He ached. His love was poison in his chest; the more of it he felt, the more he suffered. He had loved for eight months and the love was a rope and it was tied around his neck and choked him. It choked him for eight months, then for a month it had been gone and suddenly it was rising in his chest and poisoning his blood. It was choking him again.
"Dude, it seems pretty sketchy to sneak into a guy's place when he's not home."
"My brother and my mom's doctor are supposed to call me."
"I'll let him know you're coming, he's cool with it. I spend the night at his place all the time."
"Do you have their numbers written someplace besides your cell phone?"
"He lets me come and go as I please."
"Or do you know where you can look up the numbers?"
"no. No."
"Why can't you just hook up at your own place?!"
A stroke is a big deal. Everyone he could think of in his own family who didn't die young had died, ultimately, of a stroke. Other diseases had plagued them and as far as most in the family were concerned the long-term ailments were the illnesses that led to death: cancer, alzheimers, lonliness... . But after the elderly were sick for years, it was the stroke that caused the end.
"will you do me a favor?"
"Roommates. Rules. We aren't allowed to have sex here. Are you wanting to hang out tonight?"
Anything. I'll do anything. I will hold you. I will cry. I will bleed. God, God... "yeah"
"Will you call..."
I'll do anything. Anything. Of course I'll call"
"Well serious stuff's going on. I don't know if I can hang out this evening."
"Yeah." I'll call. Of course.
"Well i think you should meet up with me."
"What's your brother's first name? What city does he live in?" I'll look him up.
"come on, it will be fun."
"Look, I don't know what I'm doing tonight. Stuff's going on with my ex boyfriend..."
He had promised himself he would not do this, let the love creep up in his throat. He had promised himself he would not do this, demean himself with strangers. I promised myself I wouldn't do this. But what else could kill the love? What kills love? What keeps it alive? What keeps it from killing its host?
"I will help u forget."
"His name is Dylan."
"Where is this guy's place anyway?"
Dylan...
"Oh, my phone is working now."
"Not far. U coming?"
The phone. good. Good.
"It's only like 15 minutes driving."
Oh please, stop...
"So you have the phone numbers you need?" So I don't need to call?
"u coming?"
"Yeah, It's ok. I have them."
Maybe... what the fuck.
"I'm kind of agitated about some stuff that's going on, I don't know if I'm coming tonight..."
...but just meet me in the park and we can do it there.
"Yeah, I have them. I'm sorry to run to you."
Sorry to run?
"Do u have any more pics? U should send more."
Run to me. With anything. Anything. Anything.
"You can come to me. It's ok."
"Anything?"
"I'm out of pics."
But just meet me in the park and we can do it there. I'm not so sure about that weird guy's apartment, but the park...
"I know you don't need me doing that."
"Do u have a camera phone? I can take some more pictures with my camera phone if u would."
Need you doing that? Run to me. With anything. Anything. Anything. Love me. Please.
"I don't think I can go. I want to go running." I need to forget.
I need to forget. But I can run through the park...
Somewhere in a hospital not far away his great aunt slipped into the unknown, her deep sleep ended by the terror and the possibility of the end of sleep. Doctors took note but did not worry; it was long coming and all had given up resisting it.
"Don't apologize. I'll let you know when it's too hard."
God, it's too hard. It's too hard.
"Running? Come back and talk to me when you're done running."
"Let me know how everything goes. I will pray for all of you."
"Do you like to get head?"
"I'll pray for you. ok?"
I'll meet you. I'll meet you by the creek. We'll kiss and I'll get on my knees. I'll pull down your pants and suck you. At first it will be hard but I'll start to want it, start to like it, if I keep on it, I'll forget everything.
"Ok?"
"Do you?"
"You there?"
Maybe.
"hello?"
"Look, I have to go."
Then he took of his shirt and burst through the door without stopping, ran outside and ran down the sidewalk like death was chasing him. And it was. It was in the air, on the street, it was inside him, spreading through his body like a virus, growing, eating away as he pounded the pavement with sore ankles and blisters on his feet.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are...
And not far away, in the same building his great aunt lay in now dead, his great uncle's heart stopped beating and the last faint breath dissipated in the room, mixing with the stale air of the hospice corridor, smelling of sanitary chemicals and the bodies of the sick.
Let your heart not be troubled... I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you into myself; that where I am, there you may be also.
Much farther away his ex boyfriend's mother lay unconscious in a dark room, with the eerie twilight of dim flourescent emergency lights glaring off her ghostlike face. He'd never seen her but he knew her there, sinking into the fog of confusion that comes during the last days.
I'll meet you in the park, by the river, under the trees. I'll meet you down in the dark spot where no one will see us. I'll hold you around your shoulders, wrap my arms around you, pretend I'm in love. Pretend you are the one I love. I'll glide my lips over your body and unbutton your shirt, I'll run my tongue down to your cock. I will suck you off and feel the cum in my throat. Fuck diseases. I'm not afraid! We're all going to the same place somehow.
He ran until the sweat dripped off his body, through sprinklers, through the gnats swarming around the streetlights, through midnight dew. He tried to spit but it was thick and phlegmy and stuck to his cheek, and he wiped it off with his hand. He ran past the smokers and the last few cars on the street, ran until he was farther from home than he'd ever gone before and he was not tired and he could feel himself flying. Sweat is tears, tears are sweat. Love is the cracked pavement and the moon is the body, drawing the darkness into itself. And to the loving God we pray for all those who are dying, that they may cross the threshold with the white light of heaven chasing tears and pain away.
Maybe I do. He fumbled with the mouse.
Moments later. "Ur really hot. I've been wanting to try something. U want to have a 3-way?"
Another window appeared. "Worst day ever," said an old friend. "My mom had a stroke."
His heart panged. Clung to the inside of his ribs. Wedged in his throat.
A stroke? A stroke. This is it. After so much time that she's been sick, it's a stroke. This is how it ends.
"Oh my God. I'm sorry. Are you OK?"
Not far away two family members of his own were dying, wilfully of old age, tired and done with life attached to machinery, artificial organs, wheelchairs, plastic kidneys and iron lungs.
The first window flashed: "The place is just a few miles from here, u want directions?"
And just a few miles down the highway his mother wept at the fact that that two people she grew up with were dying. He felt for his mother, but he hardly knew his older relatives and gave their deaths only passing thought.
yeah, I'll come over when I want AIDS. He frowned and leaned forward.
"i don't like 3somes," he typed in the first window.
The second window flashed. "plus, shitty day at work. I just scraped my knee, ahhhh! and my phone just died and I'm waiting for a really important call about my mom."
Then the first window... "Well the guy is hot. Here, let me send you pictures"
God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He typed, "Are you OK?"
"...my problem is that I don't have a place. so if u don't want a 3 way, we can meet at this guy's when he's not home."
"No. Not really. You?"
God. I'd do anything to fix this. Anything, if it were possible.
"I'm really sorry. Who is supposed to call you?"
"It's really ok to use his place."
I love you. I love you! He ached. His love was poison in his chest; the more of it he felt, the more he suffered. He had loved for eight months and the love was a rope and it was tied around his neck and choked him. It choked him for eight months, then for a month it had been gone and suddenly it was rising in his chest and poisoning his blood. It was choking him again.
"Dude, it seems pretty sketchy to sneak into a guy's place when he's not home."
"My brother and my mom's doctor are supposed to call me."
"I'll let him know you're coming, he's cool with it. I spend the night at his place all the time."
"Do you have their numbers written someplace besides your cell phone?"
"He lets me come and go as I please."
"Or do you know where you can look up the numbers?"
"no. No."
"Why can't you just hook up at your own place?!"
A stroke is a big deal. Everyone he could think of in his own family who didn't die young had died, ultimately, of a stroke. Other diseases had plagued them and as far as most in the family were concerned the long-term ailments were the illnesses that led to death: cancer, alzheimers, lonliness... . But after the elderly were sick for years, it was the stroke that caused the end.
"will you do me a favor?"
"Roommates. Rules. We aren't allowed to have sex here. Are you wanting to hang out tonight?"
Anything. I'll do anything. I will hold you. I will cry. I will bleed. God, God... "yeah"
"Will you call..."
I'll do anything. Anything. Of course I'll call"
"Well serious stuff's going on. I don't know if I can hang out this evening."
"Yeah." I'll call. Of course.
"Well i think you should meet up with me."
"What's your brother's first name? What city does he live in?" I'll look him up.
"come on, it will be fun."
"Look, I don't know what I'm doing tonight. Stuff's going on with my ex boyfriend..."
He had promised himself he would not do this, let the love creep up in his throat. He had promised himself he would not do this, demean himself with strangers. I promised myself I wouldn't do this. But what else could kill the love? What kills love? What keeps it alive? What keeps it from killing its host?
"I will help u forget."
"His name is Dylan."
"Where is this guy's place anyway?"
Dylan...
"Oh, my phone is working now."
"Not far. U coming?"
The phone. good. Good.
"It's only like 15 minutes driving."
Oh please, stop...
"So you have the phone numbers you need?" So I don't need to call?
"u coming?"
"Yeah, It's ok. I have them."
Maybe... what the fuck.
"I'm kind of agitated about some stuff that's going on, I don't know if I'm coming tonight..."
...but just meet me in the park and we can do it there.
"Yeah, I have them. I'm sorry to run to you."
Sorry to run?
"Do u have any more pics? U should send more."
Run to me. With anything. Anything. Anything.
"You can come to me. It's ok."
"Anything?"
"I'm out of pics."
But just meet me in the park and we can do it there. I'm not so sure about that weird guy's apartment, but the park...
"I know you don't need me doing that."
"Do u have a camera phone? I can take some more pictures with my camera phone if u would."
Need you doing that? Run to me. With anything. Anything. Anything. Love me. Please.
"I don't think I can go. I want to go running." I need to forget.
I need to forget. But I can run through the park...
Somewhere in a hospital not far away his great aunt slipped into the unknown, her deep sleep ended by the terror and the possibility of the end of sleep. Doctors took note but did not worry; it was long coming and all had given up resisting it.
"Don't apologize. I'll let you know when it's too hard."
God, it's too hard. It's too hard.
"Running? Come back and talk to me when you're done running."
"Let me know how everything goes. I will pray for all of you."
"Do you like to get head?"
"I'll pray for you. ok?"
I'll meet you. I'll meet you by the creek. We'll kiss and I'll get on my knees. I'll pull down your pants and suck you. At first it will be hard but I'll start to want it, start to like it, if I keep on it, I'll forget everything.
"Ok?"
"Do you?"
"You there?"
Maybe.
"hello?"
"Look, I have to go."
Then he took of his shirt and burst through the door without stopping, ran outside and ran down the sidewalk like death was chasing him. And it was. It was in the air, on the street, it was inside him, spreading through his body like a virus, growing, eating away as he pounded the pavement with sore ankles and blisters on his feet.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are...
And not far away, in the same building his great aunt lay in now dead, his great uncle's heart stopped beating and the last faint breath dissipated in the room, mixing with the stale air of the hospice corridor, smelling of sanitary chemicals and the bodies of the sick.
Let your heart not be troubled... I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you into myself; that where I am, there you may be also.
Much farther away his ex boyfriend's mother lay unconscious in a dark room, with the eerie twilight of dim flourescent emergency lights glaring off her ghostlike face. He'd never seen her but he knew her there, sinking into the fog of confusion that comes during the last days.
I'll meet you in the park, by the river, under the trees. I'll meet you down in the dark spot where no one will see us. I'll hold you around your shoulders, wrap my arms around you, pretend I'm in love. Pretend you are the one I love. I'll glide my lips over your body and unbutton your shirt, I'll run my tongue down to your cock. I will suck you off and feel the cum in my throat. Fuck diseases. I'm not afraid! We're all going to the same place somehow.
He ran until the sweat dripped off his body, through sprinklers, through the gnats swarming around the streetlights, through midnight dew. He tried to spit but it was thick and phlegmy and stuck to his cheek, and he wiped it off with his hand. He ran past the smokers and the last few cars on the street, ran until he was farther from home than he'd ever gone before and he was not tired and he could feel himself flying. Sweat is tears, tears are sweat. Love is the cracked pavement and the moon is the body, drawing the darkness into itself. And to the loving God we pray for all those who are dying, that they may cross the threshold with the white light of heaven chasing tears and pain away.
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