I had done an excellent job of prepping.
Drained not one
but two
liters
of lemon
Golightly.

The surgeon’s camera
winked sassily
when they wheeled me
into the operating theater.
The compressor sang
“Bottoms Up,”
as the propofol
dripped into my vein.
I drifted off grinning
as the healer remarked,
just think of Juan.

Juan,
like my alter ego
Concetta,
twenty-four, well-proportioned,
and very tan…too tan perhaps
but that was another dream.

Juan arrived
as I waited
outside the cave
sporting a prototype
of The Rolex
Oyster Perpetual Submariner
40mm black face, steel
dive watch
with fully charged
gas tritium tubes.
The cave entrance illumed
as we explored
a new tunnel
where several sulfurous geysers
had freshly erupted,
finding an iPhone 6,
rubber bat wings,
and two shiny quarters
littering the path,
but no polyps
or other
strange outgrowths.

©Cornelia DeDona 3/5/18

One thought on “Juan and Me

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