September, 26 1993

2:00 am

I'm sitting in a room, alone in a room, kind of like a classroom, like a high-school or a grade-school, with chalkboards, bulletin boards, and bright with florescent lights. And I'm in a chair, alone, in the center, in the only chair in the room. And in walks this guy. I don't know him and he asks me how to get to the "corridor," it seems strange but somehow it makes sense. I give him directions, but he asks me to show him the way. As I head through the door he gets behind me, places his left hand on my shoulder and his right in the small of my back. It's like he has a gun, like in the movies, like he's kidnapping me, keeping me in front of him, using me as a shield. He leads me through the hall. My mom's in the hall, she's been dead for twelve years, but she just walks by. I'm thinking, she must see what's going on, she must recognize the panic on my face, but she doesn't react. The man leads me through a door, he shoves me through, and when I get inside there's a party, a surprise party and everyone's there, my lover, my sister, my dog. But he's not my dog he's my brother. My brother is my dog, and he's standing upright and wearing a suit and we're dancing, close and slow and his head is on my shoulder. Now we're in a bedroom, a hotel room and the lights are dim and we're dancing. I turn my head to kiss his neck but now he's not a dog, he's a girl, a girl I knew, I used to lust after in high-school. She used to come-on to me but I was afraid of her, I thought she was having sex and I was afraid of sex. So we're dancing close and the lights are low and she grabs me tight and pulls me to the bed. But now she's my mom, and she's dressed in a bra and panties and she's pulling at me, pulling me toward her. I'm pushing away, trying to stand up but she's holding my hands, tangling up my arms, pulling, tugging at me, and I keep trying to get away. I finally get free when she turns back into a dog, and the dog is snapping at me, snapping, snapping, and I'm backing up, stumbling, falling backwards. But I'm not fast enough and he gets a piece of me, and I'm bleeding, there's blood everywhere, spurting everywhere and I look down and it's missing, my penis is missing.

© Ken Marchionno 1994

“September, 26 1993: 2:00am,” Errant Bodies, Vol 2, Valencia, California, Spring 1994