February 9, 2012
You go to a new restaurant. Order the fish. On the way home, you are already feeling sick. Before getting into bed that night, you strategically situate a bailing pail. Just in case. In the morning it’s worse and stays that way for the rest of the day. You can only nibble and sip all day. Because, God forbid . . . well, you can’t even talk about it or you might . . . oh god
Dinner time rolls around. You go back to the same restaurant. Order the fish. On the way home, you are already feeling sick. Before getting into bed that night, you strategically situate a bailing pail. Just in case. In the morning it’s worse and stays that way for the rest of the day. You can only nibble and sip all day. Because, God forbid . . . well, you can’t even talk about it or you might . . . oh god
You do this three more nights in a row. But why? There’s a gun to your back. Your consolation? Fish is supposed to be good for you. Well, in that case, you’ll go back to the restaurant again next month.
February 10, 2012
The scratch at the back of your throat after a week of coughing except running through your bloodstream. Shimmying a barky tree with bare knees except running through your bloodstream. The gas and oil combustion of a rusted chainsaw except running through your bloodstream. The unknowing submersion of your snorkel in the ocean except running through your bloodstream. The hypodermic itch you cannot relieve with the fiercest of claws except running through your bloodstream. The unfinished wine from the flute turned ashtray at last night’s party except running through your blood stream. The palpable sensation of chemo running through your bloodstream.
