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Friggsdream
by Paolo Mirando | 08 Mar 2008, 13:58

On the blanket on the floor across the room from me, two naked lesbians are languorously enjoying each other. One is blonde and one's not blonde. They're not sleeping and they're not quite sexing. They're trying for a more comfortable position for the blonde to massage something oily into the chest of the other. I'm watching this from my own blanket on the floor, lying with my head propped against the wall and thinking about how smart I am.

And then the one not blonde is also lying with me, her head nestled below mine, her upper back against my rib cage. And I'm also massaging something into her chest. Only it isn't oily. I can't stand oil on my hands. It might be soapy water.

I go to rub my nose or something, something about my nose is annoying me, and drip some soapy water in her eyes, which must sting like shit. She rolls off me and goes into the kitchen to take care of it. And I go into the bathroom to check about my nose. I'm bored with rubbing lesbians, anyway. I don't even know their names.

Even in the dark, there's evidence that it was a rough night. Feeling queasy, feeling wise, blood dried on my skin and cracking when I move, a bloody glob of something on a string dangling from my nose. Twas a much rougher night than I remember. I turn on the light to see my right eye gone. The red veiny cave in my face—and I think, well, I have to trust that it was worth it.

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