I left the wig on when we fucked

We’d gotten the diagnoses
that we have terminal
cancer of the relationship.
 
we tried chemo
and rebounds
and screaming at each other
until our lungs ran out of air
and sorrow carved
in our face like glacier canyons
 
You could never love me
even with the lights off
too afraid, I guess,
of what that looks like
 
maybe my mercurial touch
across those empty spaces
in your chest are like a slime mold
or a toxin,
or a cluster of tender-feelings herpes,
infecting you with something
I know
you’ve never
wanted.
 
But we sat in silence in the waiting room
praying for more
because there isn’t time
to fuck it out
or fight it out
or figure out how to not  
dig our eyes out
with dirty heart-deep feelings.
 
So I begged you to take me
out for a last night of fun
to dance a last time
when the bar closed,
with my head on your shoulder
 
we went to the stupid festival downtown
and ran into a group of insane people
dressed in bad red wigs  
and mumus.  
You caged a wig for me for  
a few bucks,  
because I  
begged and  
stuck my hand in  
your front pocket.
 
Proudly adorned in that  
ugly ass mop,  
I stood on couches
singing 1980s jams with my  
new best friends until
the ice in my face shattered
 
I sputtered on a red ale in a cold glass
when someone next to me
told me a punch line I can’t remember now
but fuck it was funny  
enough for me
to throw my head back and  
scream with laughter
until my windpipe clogged
 
and I caught you in the bar’s mirror
as I ugly-coughed  
with tears streaking my
too-heavy foundation.
 
I caught you looking
at me like it was
the first time
you saw me  
 
again
 
I caught you looking at me like
the world was ending,
not just our lives here,  
 
And you remembered,
you really remembered the
way you read my body with your hands
like a blind man on an island
with nothing  
to sustain you
but my sighs and screams
 
and it got cold and quiet
in that sparkling way
that discovery does.
 
and something boils
behind my eyelashes  
in this crystalline moment
 
something boils in me
in a way that might
fucking melt the
acrylic from my heart
and kill me faster than
smoking, shooting up
and playing Marco Polo
on the highway at midnight.
 
rage boiled again
that we have to die
this time  
when I want to live  
 
rage that I want to
have a last dance
before I cross my
arms across my chest
and then I want one more
 
and one more
 
and one more
 
rage that I need you
to look at me
like that
like that
while my lower back
is scarred by
carpet burn
as you inoculate
me against life
with your cock
 
I swallow hard and lift my chin
suddenly uncharmed by
the vibrancy of it all
and meet the
unsaid questions in your eyes
with radiation answers
 
We didn’t dance at the end of the night
or laugh in swirling circles
celebrating life,
we found
flesh in the car,
and
bones in the
hallway
 
we spread the tumors of us
like dirty handprints
against the wall
half dressed
but fully alive
 
you reached up
as I sheathed you
sweat coruscating
along my body
to cup a tit
and I moved
your hand
to my throat
and leaned
in,
grinding harder,
pushing deeper,
holding your wrist
in effigy of the way
I can't fucking breathe
when you're near me
 
while that stupid orange
hair bobbed like
you were getting boinked
by a sexy Ronald Macdonald.
 
when we fell together
in a pile of sweat
and bruises and
blobs of cum
dripping on random shit,
we laughed
and threw the awful wig
across the room
with the dick-wipe towel.
 
we laughed
and I caught you
looking at me
like it was the first time
you saw me again
 
again

and you said…
 
you said  
you could love me
 
even in the dark
 
and for a moment,
babe,
 
for a moment
I forgot that our
days have numbers  
 
for a moment
while your body
warmed mine
I felt like
I could…
 
Like I want to…
 
(love you)

 
live  
forever