Dr. Donna Thong and Peg whispered through the ancient stone glory hole of at least 9" in depth. It must once have been a Cuban prison.
DR. THONG: I'm remembering Mike and the abdominal surgery I performed on him when I had my patio studio.
PEG: That's after you were a Fanny-Girl temp out in Dead Beet Chank.
DR. THONG: You know friends do continue to self-realize when you're not around.
PEG: But you've always had emotions for Mike. Two swimmers in one pool or another.
DR. THONG: He told me his intestines smelled like latex for months afterward.
PEG: He sat up on the table fresh like a baby, glass bottles tinkling against the IV stand.
DR. THONG: You remember the story like a song.
PEG: The one that got away. But what of the others?
LAMENT OF THE OTHERS
it seemed as if they entered willingly
following their noses to my kitchen
i thought most necromancy to be weak
but the bottom of the pie was crispy
followed by stepping out of doors to neck
that first incision leading to the next
we woke among discarded vials of heparin
ecstatic still in the wane of hydrocodone
ready to renew our grunted oaths
until the next opportunistic infection.