forces of evil on a bozo nightmare

We sit in the tub discussing that one guy. I squeeze dish soap under the tap to make bubbles. Ed falls asleep. The water gets cold but I don’t get up. I like it cold. I light a cigarette and empty a can of shaving cream on his chest. I finish his Budweiser, open a fresh one. Ed’s snoring. He has me in his hairy, soapy arms. A pin-up, a pistol. I trace tattoos with soggy fingertips. The sun’s coming up and Jeremiah’s doing lines on the living room table. He’s looking for his liquor. I can hear Tom Waits singing something gay out there. Dirty towels heaped on the floor next to me. Maxim magazines, soap scum, Ed’s hair. He mumbles something about ringing my neck. I LOL, on the inside. It’s Halloween morning and I’m getting Swine flu. Tonight I’m Cookie Monster drinking whiskey in the street. I don’t want him to brood. I don’t want him to feel. I want him to stay asleep.