SPRING

A face.

Disfigured.

Ugly.

"Do you miss it?"

Slurred speech.

Sweat drenched sheets beneath his head.

He twisted away.

The hoses pulled taut.

"Can you still feel an itch?"

He shut his eyes.

"Does it hurt?"

She brushed at his dark hair.

He flinched away.

No human contact.

She was eighteen.

With the mind of a three year old.

Thanks to opium.

And acute occipital hemorrhaging.

Thanks to cocaine.

Her nose bleeding.

"Harry?"

He could hear the ants.

On the floor.

Crawling.

Scratching.

Clicking.

Screaming.

Mating.

He covered his ears.

Only to cry.

Because only one ear could be covered.

"Mr. Goldfarb?"

Another voice.

Another person.

Coaxing.

"Go back to your bed Schlitse."

Not her real name.

Ellen Apple was.

She'd slit each wrist seven separate times.

Within two weeks.

Always crossways.

Never downward.

Too inane to know.

Too inane to die.

"Mr. Goldfarb. It's time for your bath."

He curled.

Fetally.

Soaked in sweat.

Schlitse still hovering.

The bathroom light was turned on.

He flinched away.

Schlitse came with him.

"Harry?"

Water was heard.

And plugged.

And hoarded.

In porcelain.

Disinfected.

"That's enough Schlitse, leave Mr. Goldfarb alone."

Steered by slumped shoulders.

Back to her bed.

Shadowed eyes.

Trained on him.

He refused to move.

The nurse sighed.

Little white hat.

She pushed a button.

And in came a man.

Tall.

And dark.

He picked him up.

Without tarry.

And strode.

~

He curled tight.

Knees at shoulders.

Hand at shins.

Stump forsaken.

Sitting lonely.

On toweled porcelain.

Soiled yet not wet.

He stared into the water.

Touching his nose.

Then pushed in.

Past his ears.

Listening to the pressure.

Something intruded.

But he did not look up.

He only opened his eyes.

Painted toenails.

Curling toes.

Half naked.

Half dressed.

Exposed underwater.

Insouciant.

His lungs burned.

His eyes burned.

His head burned.

His vision darkened.

And swam.

Drops invaded.

Blood swirling.

He rose with a gasp.

Schlitse.

Her nose bleeding.

Into the water.

They shared.

She clapped.

And smiled.

And laughed a breath.

Fingers stiff.

Bent.

Retarded.

Voice lingering.

Stabbing.

Biting.

Stinging.

"She won't come today."

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