something fungal

remember that time we both got

   tinea

waddling down the hallway, legs spread

minced garlic dripping down our naked
                                              thighs

i never had ringworm before i met you.

i settled on the couch, thighs searing

knees at 90 degrees

feet perched on the table

cigarette webbed to my fingers

and as you waddled into the room

with each step shifting your weight

from side to side

                                                                            legs so comically spread

                                 i laughed about how much we resembled Tiny Tim,

                                                     slow and purposeful in our labored gait

i don’t know, i was delirious by then

it was 11p.m. and i was hungover

and for what felt like weeks

i hadn’t seen you,           now reunited by fungal growth in tandem                                                                                  

            in your hand, manuka honey

            and two cotton buds

            and i laughed and thought

                                                                                           sweet as honey

                                                                                         he’s so beautiful

thighs burnt until the edge of sleep

and in the half-light of six a.m. i felt you shift

heard your waddling down the hallway

i put on Velvet Underground and closed my eyes,

and in my mind I

visualized you still here

somehow still asleep with your smile

watch out, the world’s behind you

there’s always someone around you

                                                            who will call

 (it’s nothing at all)

the door slammed in its distinctively thunderous way and i

reached for the antifungal, on its side

the flattened tube curled in that diminished way

like a scorpion’s tail or a question mark

right beside the untouched water

       over on your side of the bed.