Taking Things Literally
‘You’re infectious’ I say,
‘What.. like a disease?’ she asks
her smile shifting to an accusatory glance,
‘So I’m going to put you in a hospital,
just because we kissed
you’ll need chemo.’
I have to say that at this point
she’s looking pretty pissed off
caught up between the angry colour
of a crab shell before the boil,
or looking like she might soon
burst into tears,
calling me an insensitive dick and
running out to not return my calls
for a week.
‘No,’ I say fumbling for my words
I mean,
‘you’re…
more like a cyst.’
She huffs, I see saliva
running scared out of her mouth
between the cracks in her teeth
and I know
I’ve gone and said the wrong thing
again.
‘You know what,’ she says,
‘I’d rather be cancer than a cyst,
at least then
I know that you would die for me.’
and there and then
I make a promise that I will die for her
even though I don’t know
what that really means.
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