Stop.
Don't breathe
Can you hear it now?

It's one of those moments, calm before the storm
bellowing smoke hours before the volcano belches its innards
on the village below
magma, feldspar and dolomite
Pumice.
Even before that there's a sense of something imminent--
birds without their navigator, prairie dogs on crack

Stop.
Don't move
Can you smell that acrid stench?

Fate set to motion.
Potential energy into keniesis.
You couldn't stop this if you tried.

You've felt this before
Your life about to change direction
Take a new job
Walk to the podium
accept that diploma
Leave your lover

Stop.
Quit thinking
Do you see it now?

The proper treatment for an object
impaled in the chest cavity
is to leave the object in place
Wrap in gauze, seal tight with tape
Let the ER pull it out

After three months
with this bitter shard in my heart,
I take it out tonight


Doctors would tell you it is left in
to prevent excessive perfusion
and wound contamination
But I discovered a better reason
for stabilizing the object:

All I know is it hurts less
sitting there stationary
in the myocardium, contaminated as it is.
What pain exists now is bearable
When I rip it out tonight
the pain could be immense

Not to worry -- do not fear

As the blood flows from my chest
I will feel nothing, the single malt
anesthetic inhibiting pain receptors.
That lie tainted knife out of my soul
Pour absinthe on my wound
Let the healing begin.

Hold on.
Close your eyes.
Can you sense it coming?

Can you feel the heat?
Just the passion now gone
wicked away by deceit

The wind -- Can you feel the wind?
Just the whims of your lover, that's all.

No big deal.

Protracted pain only ensures a deeper wound.
My advice to you:
Pull it out!
Let the barbs tear your organs
and rip your flesh
Let the doctor on call
take it from there

And your pain?

Fucking deal with it then and there

Self torment is not haute couture
Pity is not a fashion trend
Your friends are not impressed

The quicker it heals
The sooner you are ready for legitimate love
But for now…. Absinthe and scotch

05/19/2001

Posted on 05/31/2005
Copyright © 2024 Soulo Jacob Bourgeau