Pain Flirts

Pain Flirts

Pain comes on strong, a sweaty hand on your thigh, back, arm, raising goosebumps, a little nausea, because you know you’ll have to be the asshole now, all night dodging hairy advances, clumsy innuendos, unmarked pills, watery drinks. Aggressive, Pain wants you but bad—zeros in, and suddenly swindled, you flee to bathroom solitude.

But Pain knows no boundaries, follows you into the stall, lumbers to your car, trails you home, hovers outside your window, bellows, “come on, Beautiful.” Its shadow on the blinds, dancing a polka, keeps you waking until dawn. Pain returns to your stoop with the paper and a bag of donuts, offers sweetly to make coffee while you put up your feet, hums when it presents Vicodin and OJ on a tray.