I’ve thought about being dead, watched my bloated self in the mirror, waited for strangers to take care of the funeral. I’ve thought about dinner parties, the theatre: things no longer in the budget. Sex. Doctors. I’ve thought about cohesion, Clairol, Herbal Essence and Eyeliner. Friends. I’ve thought about outreach groups, raisins, peaches, and kiwis. Still-life paintings in my city. I’ve thought about American Idol, churches and meals on wheels. About competition, and another twenty years of less, and less, and less of a line that does not disappear on its own. I’ve thought about mangrove crabs living in mud holes, pushed back into the closet. © Sergio A. Ortiz 2009 First Published in the summer of 2009
