Dis 12, 2012


SR. SOL— Urine.

ANATH— I don't think so.

SR. SOL— I said this will be the last thing, then I said, urine.

ANATH— You're not that interesting, Sr.

SR. SOL— We're talking blood in my—

ANATH— Wait a minute.

SR. SOL— It's pins and needles, you know, when I—

ANATH— Who's behind the medicine?

SR. SOL— These days,it's all alcohol.

ANATH— Topical?

SR. SOL— No, inflammatory.

ANATH— Did you believe, for one moment, we'd last as long as this?

SR. SOL— And I don't want you worrying, I don't want you writing me.

ANATH— I never write you, I just write.

SR. SOL— Or making sad, contemplative faces.

ANATH— Terminal?

SR. SOL— Or questions, no more questions.

ANATH— I can do gifts. Time-released gifts, but you've got to give me the schedule, that is, the span.

SR. SOL— I don't want you, in fact, I don't want you.

ANATH— Not wanting you sounds like something I would do. With or without the blood, Sr., that is—

SR. SOL— So this is it then.

ANATH— It's colder now, so I suppose it's more painful. Yes, as needles go.

SR. SOL— You get to say one last thing.



ANATH— Adult diapers, darkish underclothes.

SR. SOL— I'll give you one last thing to say.

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