Thursday, February 27, 2014

poem of the day 02.27.14


the doctor told my girlfriend
that she had porphyria
i don’t remember which doctor
because there were so many of those quacks involved
checking her blood and her urine
digging through her bloody stool sample
the same one she’d made me view that morning
while she writhed around in pain on her bed
i’d never heard of porphyria
i was worried that it meant pregnant in greek
i was just twenty-one and i was going to bars with my friends
i knew what alabama slammers were
i knew who sold watered down drinks
i knew that a club full of women gyrating to tainted love
was the closest that i was ever coming to heaven
my girlfriend was still twenty
this porphyria outbreak seemed to coincide with my birthday
it kept me from going to more bars and clubs
it kept me in her bedroom on friday and saturday nights
listening to her horrible music
as she and her mother read medical brochures to each other
like they were reciting wordsworth
porphyria caused my girlfriend to quit her mall job
so i was back to paying for mexican dinners and shitty movies
porphyria never seemed to affect her appetite or bad taste
to me the disease meant selfish bitch
at least in english
i wanted to get the hell away from her
but i felt like such a heel leaving in her time of need
so i stuck around
as did porphyria
the sickness lasted all spring and summer
then it seemed to magically disappear that fall
right around my girlfriend’s twenty-first birthday
on a night she met me at the door
full of color and glowing like she hadn’t in months
to announce that she was cured
and would soon be able to come to the same bars and clubs
with me
the porphyria is gone, she said
yes, yes, i answered, hating her anew
and soon baby, soon so will i.

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