What, with my lower back the way it is. After a night’s sleep, it might as well be a rusted ball joint, for all its flexibility. I wish everything was so stiff. And what about you, getting down the stairs with that knee that only bends twenty percent of what it originally did? No, you pulling me up to position, and my bracing you down the stairs, well, it’s just a part of our day. We never talked about it, but I came to realize you bought into the idea “Live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse” as much as I did. And what a beautiful corpse you would have left. Oh, that day we met. You seemed so sweet and innocent, your skin was white as a dove, your eyes blue as an early spring sky, your hair red as a five-alarm fire. Heads turned to you like to a meteor falling to earth. Not the least of which was mine. So glad I was the earth you fell to. Yes, you could have left a beautiful corpse and would have. It wasn’t for lack of trying. Remember the way we used to drink? Hand over fist, tequila to scotch and then whiskey to wash down some ludes.
