Pickle

I fell in love with Bob Fosse when I was 57 and he was dead.

Death has nothing to do with our love, it is pure. I can learn my body the way Bobby would learn it. I can feel his harsh criticism. I can run my hand down my thigh and watch him watching another girl and know that he is floating toward her there. He can't help it.

He is a sex cloud. He blows where the beauty takes him. He gets flush for talent. He gets all wrapped up in the dance and then he can't stop the dance cause who wants to stop the dance. 

But then at like 3 am after the chorus girls are exhausted, strewn about the bed like old pizza boxes, oily and broken with nothing left to eat, only little bits of hard cheese remnants of hot bliss in the corners.  

That's when Bobby calls me.

Hanging off the side of his bed sideways, feet off one end, over one girl's sleeping shoulder. Elbows against the side of the comforter, on an old fashioned phone, with the cord wrapped over his wrist, staring at the carpet that's lush and secretive.

He blinks slowly. Are you there

Bobby. God.

They're asleep

You're going to catch every kind of disease

So far so good, he says

So far so great, actually. He is surveying the wreckage of a finely tuned torso gently breathing. 

I sigh through the phone cord. Was it lovely

It was lovely, he says. It was tuning out. Athletic. It was Olympic. There were medals.

I find my face smiling

Pickle  he says

hmm.

Pickle

Yes

Will you pick me up

I turn on my back all tangled in the cord. My ceiling is dark blue like the night sky. I am camping in my mind, I paint the stars on one by one with my breath

I'm not actually going to pick you up, I say

But you would

I would go anywhere for you

Do you think it's unfair

I think you should share. A bit more

He sighs. Yeah. 

I mean you had TWO. You coulda called me

I am.

I mean, earlier. When I could be curious and dissolved into.

He nods. 

Do you think life is just how many people you can touch

In so many places, I say

I like all the places, I like how soft the skin is. I like that you forget everything.

You love me, I say

Shhh He nods

Why shhh

God will hear

God is not listening to a sex spent dancer

How do you know

There's famines and things

Oh I guess

We listen to each other breathe. 

I could stop my life for you, he says finally

I don't believe him.

I would step off the bus and let it go zooming on. 

I smile. Because he is lying. Okay then.

Should I

You only say these things after. 

This is the true me

You need to share. Yourself. Not just with others. With 

You?

I nod

That seems dangerous.

You're talking to me now

Come pick me up, he says. I'm scared here. 

You're tired. You ran out of drugs

No really. I'm not any of those things.

Where would we go

Let's just sit in the car. And then find a field. 

And dance?

And put toes in the lake. And be best friends. 

I lean on my elbow. Considering. You aren't real, Robert Louis Fosse

I'm 80 percent real

I'm not sure I need real, but I think it's good to aim for.

That's what all the books say?

I nod.

The future is going to eat me up. On a sidewalk. I'll be a fried egg and I'll never meet you.

You'll have so many girls. One with you when you die. One waiting for you back at your house. One ex wife 20 years ago who never took off her ring. What kind of spell do you cast, mister

I don't know, he squeezes his lip. It's pretty good I guess

It's a good one.

That's what all the books say.

I'm gonna miss you Bobby

He sighs. A girl's foot twitches. They are all so beautiful. In different ways.

You fall into their bodies

He nods. I feel safe and forgetful.

It's good to forget. 

My head gets full otherwise. I want to keep it flowing,

I understand, believe me.

I know Pickle. That's why I called.

The silence across years. 

You hear me?

mmm hmm

You still there.

I am