Then he opened the door and cried, “you are under arrest!” My worst fear had come true. I got my dick back in my pants and he took me outside and called his partner.
It’s ugly and it hurts, but the girl and I don’t talk anymore, so this thing is the last thing of hers I have; and I know that soon, very soon, for the sake of being a sane functional person if no other, I’m going have to take that turd of a hurt and polish it into some kind of art that bears only a passing resemblance to the original, and put it out in the world so that it isn’t inside of me anymore.
It’s about eight in the evening now, and this guy is standing in the middle of a parking lot, his convertible idling, playing the bagpipes in a wifebeater. And we don’t have anything to say to that…
So I’m waiting, watching the floor between my feet. I’m cold. My legs ache. I don’t want to be here. The office door opens and the nursing sister looks at me. “Be with you in a minute,” she says. I relax. I’ve been seen. I will be seen.