Fingers and Toads

Buttercup was back in the hospital again and I was at the bar watching the Steelers fuck up the first half. For the most part I could care less for that football team except for Andy Warhol (Pittsburgh), so I keep looking. Hands tied. Desiring a better view and more compassionate monkeys, I step out to figure where she has been taken. There is a thin border between us, imaginary really and I'm locked south of it. Her healthcare permitting at least a dignified respite from its interminable path. The girl suffers. And I suffer. But I suffer less because I am not forced. Not in this case. My desire builds, I want to see her now and I can't so I pace. I pace with the wish that the heavy weights were above my shallow form and the blood hitting my skull like a twelve mile hike through granite.

Hallow's Eve -
You were abused Rose.
I was? I knew where this was going.
Yea, like you were raped when you were a child, she said spoken with the 'duh' expression.
Oh that? But I liked it. Is it rape if I like it?
It's rape.
Ok, then but still, it doesn't linger. I can speak about it openly. It's not hurting me.
But it triggered something. Not pain or some repressed after school drama bullshit rather the idea that Z and I really were children fighting against an invisible enemy and swimming in an invisible sea. And we didn't have to. That it was a show of a lion in the face of terror. One that doesn't run.
What's the lesson? I ask.
Nothing D, just that.
I stared into her and we remained staring.
Uh oh.
Uh oh what? she said but she knew we were staring too long.
She wanted my pain and I wanted hers and I wanted her to take my pain and I wanted to tell Z what I saw and I didn't want to leave and I wanted her to touch me. We held hands. Then shots. Then another beer. More touching. Skin. Hair. Sip. I take a call.
Hey babe, how are you feeling?
Mumbles over the fag bar pumping 80's crap.
Babe, I can't hear you, I'm sorry. Let me step outside. It's cold outside.
I said where are you? I hear through strained attempt under mumbling breath.
I'm at a gay bar with Luna.
She responds but it's mumbles.
Babe, did you take the sleeping pills?
Yes.
Well, you should sleep because I can't hear you when you take the sleeping pills.
Are you having fun?
I'm having a drink. I guess it's fun.
Silence.
Babe, get some sleep. I love you.
Silence. She had fallen asleep on the phone again. The pills taking over.

Back inside, Luna's intent on getting something out of me. I wear my emotions so she can see I'm off to some other place.
You're doing everything you can D. You're doing the best you possibly can.
I know.
You're doing everything you can D.
I know. And then we were in some Good Will Hunting bullshit.
Ask one more time and I'm going to lose it, I say.
You're a good man D. And I lose it but sit there upright, heart forward, staring back. I let it come. Again. Fingering Luna until it just stopped.