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Can You Do Me a Favor?
Can you do me a favor? Can you stay a fantasy just a little while longer, until I get used to the idea of processing my pain, of you being human?
Can you do me a favor? Can you let me fall off my bike into the cold, frozen dirt…without telling me what I’m doing wrong, or critiquing my form?
Can you do me a favor? Can you let me eat something bad, or smoke something bad, and can it be an act of rebellion instead of a surrender to capitalism?
Can you do me a favor? Can I watch you fight another man in a bar, and can you both get a little bloody, and then leave the scene as friends?
Can you do me a favor? Can you promise me things I know aren’t true, and can we go for a long drive in an old car and look at the ocean?
Can you do me a favor? Can I pretend, just for a little bit, that this is all a grand conspiracy, and that the world itself is part of some evil plot . . . instead of the fear that we really are all just bumping heads?
Can you do me a favor? Can you heal the wounds I think will always be in my body? The funny neck pain, the sore shoulder, the weak wrist? Can you tell me they will get better, and that no injury is permanent?
Can you do me a favor? Tell me you can be old and beautiful. Tell me you can be fat and beautiful. Tell me you can be…
