PLEASE

because I wanted a fresh slap, a cut lined with honey that might stick to the walls as you passed them, maybe I’m looking to secure these certain germs myself, gestural promise that a wind that smells like coriander destiny isn’t all it will take to carry you off to the rich, green valley where the women are robust and lunch is a circle and I’m not invited or noticed or real

Goodbye gown

Tim, son, brother, uncle, godfather, friend, classmate, obsessive Star Wars, aliens, and comic lover

self-taught breakdancer, armored car security guard, P-Town tattoo artist,

gamer, LEGO fanatic, collector, expert at whatever he set his mind to

took a breath, shaking, rattling in and out the tubes put into his throat, down, to his chest. 

He closed his eyes. They were shut for a while. And with eyes still closed, 

he stopped. That was it. Good riddance, tubes. Goodbye gown.