"swollen bowels," he said

"that's all you get," then rose from hardwood

chair    "I'm not a boy

anymore --  no two ways

about it."

he reached into his pocket producing a sound

like nerve gas

"the sun was a half hour late this morning --

a half hour late."

his tongue stuck to his lips as he talked

he cracked knuckle after knuckle in a

feeble attempt at unity.

he was contagious  -

at least, he thought so.

I reached for a cigarette

he fumbled for his lighter with a grunt --

"when you eat fire

you gotta expect a little indigestion."

did he eat fire often, I asked

is that why his face stands away from his skull

like a frightened child.

what would he like for breakfast

what was it like being chained to a rock

does his liver hurt    would he do it again.

"it wasn't for the fire,"

he said

"it was defiance."