Saturday, November 15, 2014

Original Joe.

"I am not really sure what to say to you when you wake up crying like that " I tell him.
What am I supposed to do? Let him sleep? Wake him up?
Dope is supposed to be this cure all pain killer but what happens when the pain is so deep nothing will make it go away, not even your dreams.

He rolls back over away from me. "Crying" he tells me "I was fucking crying" I can see him wipe his face.

His brown hair hits the pillow in a way that I can his eyes slowly close. I know he isn't sleeping. He is not escaping whatever penetrated him when he had no defenses.

This moment would almost seem normal if it did not involve us. Two young people in bed, the light streaming in through the window hitting the bare skin on his shoulder. I am in his boxer shorts and t-shirt snug under his comforter. There is food from last night at the edge of the bed from snacks we devoured. Our clothes are strewn about the floor. As soon as we hit the door at 2:30 am we ripped them of our longing bodies. We could not wait for that moment when we could be alone. Just me, and him, and his drugs in my veins.

A few hours earlier, I was wrapping my thighs up with a shoelace while he was doing pushups in the corner. He needed me to hit him in his chest. He made his money with the illusion that he was straight and healthy. He still had just enough muscle tone and clean arms for the dates to pay extra. Joe and I hooked up from time to time, but it never was what I expected. He was a businessman with extra ordinary skills from what i was told. He did his best work at bars, when the horny queens felt a sense of victory as they walked away with a young stud that showed zero interest in anyone but them ( and their bulging wallet). I never asked what he did with them but I certainly understood why. I was in my sleeping bag  when he approached me with a few warm hundreds in his hand. The money involved things he did not want to discuss and I was more than happy to stay silent. I would crawl out of his blankets and follow him wherever he wanted to go.

He looks so beautiful in the light. I curled up behind him. When he comes and gets me in the alley, I know what he wants from me. We go through this routine a few times a month. He wants to do his half gram shots and feel normal. I never see him nod, only the tiny pupils in his blue eyes tell me he is high again.

I could get used to this feeling, except it came at a high price. He will walk out me sometime before dark. No sex, no commitment, and no expectations. He tells me that he isn't attracted to me yet repeats this cycle over and over. There won't even be a hug goodbye. He just sends me out into the world like I left it, cold and alone.

I don't know what happened to Joe or the dozens of other hustlers I knew just like him. I suppose some got clean. Some died. Some went to prison. I don't know if he ever thinks about me or the quiet nights we spent together trying to feel something and nothing at the same time.

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