macserp

I am trying to be optimistic. I don't want to think about the poor beast laying near death in my arms, and who only this morning slept comfortably, albeit hungry and stinking, but liquid, supple, his cells swimming on the cool white marble steps of a church where no doubt a few McDonalds frittas were tossed his way now and again. So what if he would eventually die of malnutrition or cancer - he was happy. And then I come along and lead him on with soggy bread crusts and a tattered book binding to this - the poor trusting bastard, along with everyone else! When will they learn? Can't they see that it's my fate to be outside the garden? In full view of it, yes - but always outside. I doubt right now that I would scale that wall even if I had the strength. Even before this great thirst I was digging my own well between the living and the dead. All my life I have kept to the dry, solitary pavements, to this barren place. Forgive me for bringing you here Luigi, along with everyone else, to wait as I have waited - remotely, patiently, thick-skulled and lifeless - with a strong back and a squeezing fist for a heart. Finally we come to a stone bench. The lightest dapple of shade, an errant twig, has grown from the wall. Luigi collapses on his side, sprawled out. He is panting hard. I wonder if I have killed him too. Youth, hope, health, property - I have destroyed them all. There was Hazel who died at 30 from complications of our seven year relationship and her subsequent drug habit. And Tara, her mother, who had to watch as she let go of her life. There is Cassi laid emotionally barren, youth beside her now, still waiting for me. There are my parents without grandchild or daughter-in-law. There are the alcoholic tremors that I helped to cultivate in my youngest brother. There are all the dead and unborn from all the senseless rooting and scarring one-nights. And this is the short list - the one that fits on a flashcard in my wallet; the one that I see every morning before I open my eyes; it is my Pieta, my Ave Maria, summoning god and sermons whenever I enter a chapel.