Down against slip and slide porcelain he thought of what he could. Which was nothing. His thoughts were a mess. Gravy and a thin finger of biscuit. His lifetime.

He let the water come and fall. His eyes were red and scrambled. He blamed it on allergies.

It was a break. But like from a woman who was killing him. There wasn’t enough alcohol. There weren’t enough pills left. He was haphazard.

His shoulders barely fit in the width of the tub. But his feet flat against the other side kept him propped. A corpse washing clean. He listened to the rumble of the drain. Water running. Swirling and going.

In the end it didn’t matter how many because it was all ears ears ears. Hung like belts. Pierced for the love of American soil. Foreign sounding like the dirt under his fingernails. And he bled. So the dirt was mixed and it was all black and fearless. Like painted nails.

He hung himself in strings of water. Blanketed himself with sheets like waves. Buried his face beneath clouds rain humbled and hanging. The black under his nails contrasting the white of his thighs and the tan lines crossing. Fisticuffs in rainbows.

The hot ran through and the warm sputtered out and the cold came as a kind of bellowing. He stayed until he was numb. Then just a bit after that. To be sure. Because the black wouldn’t wash away. So he was meant to hang back now. Careful not to infect the general population. In quarantine under water.

***

J. A. Tyler is the author of the novel(la)s INCONCEIVABLE WILSON (scrambler books, 2009), SOMEONE, Somewhere (ghost road press, 2010), IN LOVE WITH A GHOST (willows wept press, 2010), & A MAN OF GLASS (fugue state press, 2011) as well as the chapbooks ZOO: THE TROPIC HOUSE (sunnyoutside, 2010) & OUR US & WE (greying ghost, 2010). His work has appeared recently with Sleepingfish, Caketrain, Hotel St. George, elimae, & Action, Yes among others. He is also founding editor of mud luscious / ml press. Visit: www.aboutjatyler.com.