You’re Telling Me That Pro Wrestling Isn’t Real? (Part XVI)

     Mathew serback

 

“But the reason you fight, it's not all me. It can't be all me, after all, you were the one that walked out on me.”

- Jimmy Jacobs

 

 

Why do you fight? What do you fight for?

    I thought about telling you how the snow started to fall and turn us into winter. Or how that was a storm that we might not survive. But we both knew I could live forever as long as your breath was in my bed spring. We – both – spent all that time dividing ourselves to try and satisfy our bore-dumb.

    I used to call you, even though you wouldn’t answer, just so I could hear how you were going to get back to me. When I called you, did I tell you the snow was falling?

    I broke every rule I was ever taught. I wanted to ask you questions inside of my head, but since I was always inside of your head, I could say whatever I wanted.

    Tonight, I fight for the worthiest cause of all. The greatest minds in the history of the world have contemplated it. Socrates studied it. Shakespeare wrote songs and plays about it.

    The snow was falling. My memory was falling under your fingernails with the dirt you were finger-painting with. I tried to hold onto your skin. I wanted to concave your body beneath the weight of the snow and peel the clothes off of your body. I wanted that day to be the first day that I was alone with you.

    I stood alone, in my house, with a towel wrapped around a dream I had of you. Your sleek-slippery lips – my tongue pressed between my teeth, as I thought of a way to pass that hope into you. Those grains of sand you had for skin, and me, begging to be buried up to my neck in your wetness. The way you shivered when you hugged me (your claims of my spine being weak) made me a howl in the night.

    You were the only woman who had everything I wanted during every hour of every day.

    The dog in the yard next store barked, and then my phone rang, but it wasn’t you so I lived a little longer in that moment. The dog was dying, and the phone was dying, and none of it felt as important as you. You stretched out on my bed – high and tight. Did you think about letting me lean hard into you until I learned something about the thought?       

    I went through all the trouble in the world just to take a bite out of your bottom lip.

    There's one thing and one thing only that has been here since the beginning of humanity and will be here until the end. Love!

    You could’ve been whatever you wanted. All I wanted was for you to stay alive long enough to meet up with me in the dark. And that’s where I got it wrong. I got stuck in my head and inside those walls and in that bed – without you. The snow fell, and the walls peeled, and the bed became an ice cube.

    Sirens.

    This is what I fight for. I fight to reclaim my innocence, to reclaim my purity.

    I heard the sirens coming to take us away from each other. I just wanted to hang around in all of your wetness. I was waiting for you. I was waiting for you to be. I was waiting for you to become. I was waiting for you to suck the hot air from my mouth and hold it in yours until we laughed. I was waiting for you.

    I wanted you to bend at the waist when trying to lift me high and tight inside of you. I wanted you to shiver while I was inside your head. I wanted that free-dumb smile and those black leggings to pile up in the dirty laundry.

    If I pulled your hair hard enough, do you think that you’d lean so far into me that the hour would last a little longer? Could that minute have been a minute? Could that minute be another minute? Could that minute be you in me now? And me in your now? And you? And you? And again?

    It stopped snowing.

    I was still waiting for you to call. I was still waiting for you to come. I was still waiting for you to fall back into this bed and empty out your head. Especially when I told you that the only thing I have left to do is think about telling you – again.