a lateral hum followed by two gongs

When I looked at her, I saw the eye, still in place, still ridden with cancer looking back at me, blue as an ocean, blue as can be.
“Baby.”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“Oh babe, I love you back.” We lay entwined as we do in her big bed in the early morning hours. When the pain gets too much she shuts her eyes and twitches lowering her head into the pillow as I lay my hands on envisioning them healing, envisioning them pulling out disease. Then I sleep or try to sleep as the kicks and starts keep us awake, the fire in her brain not allowing more than an hour at a spell.

I lay it out in red ink on the pages of my little black books. I imagine all scenarios, record what’s reported, record what’s not. Record the dream:
“I love you but I must say goodbye to you now.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving this relationship.”
“When will you return?”
“Never. I’ll miss you but I’m going.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“It’s already too late, I’ve left.”
“But what am I to do now?”
“You will know.”
“I know. But why choose it? Why leave?”
“Because this is the best thing for me. I no longer offer you anything. Let me go.”
“OK, goodbye.” I scanned the pier for cigarette butts, found one and lit it. She left.
A horn blows from the bay. There is no fog and no weather. It blows a second time.
“Cut that shit out!” a scream comes from the cabana. I walk to the deck above and look on. “Jesus H”, I mutter under my breath. John slaps my back, “woo hoo,” he gaggles, “Look at ‘em go!” And we watch the sailboats stream about the waters like playful otters.