“…for some reason
on his death bed
we’re going to suddenly start caring that He was married to her
more than 25 years ago…” One more thing to complain about I guess.

Zeus had many wives.
She’s here.
They were both 19.
It lasted for 6 years.
No children.
They’ve been best friends.
For life.
And their children have been best friends.
Since birth.

But this newly uncovered displaced anger?
It’s because of him.
And He knows it.
It’s all because of him. But it’s not his fault.

It’s not anyone’s fault.

Oh.
Except for the user-slash-sex-fiend that He helped.
While flying through the clouds in the helicopter ambulance that day.
Zeus; Thunderstruck.
Before they were careful with things like that.
A dirty needle.
Or was He giving CPR ?
And the fiend threw up in his mouth.
I’ve heard both stories.

He moved to the top
Of the list.
They moved him down.
A floor.
He rejected the transplant.
He didn’t want it.
Not again.
They took him off.
The list.

His body is starting to snowball.
All of his fatty tissues have traveled through his infection infested veins.
From his core to his extremities.
Chubby little fingers.
And toes.
Twitch in rhythm to his exhausted breathing.
And the tubes in his nose are too skinny, I think. But what do I know.

He asked to be taken off the morphine drip.
For a few hours.
He didn’t want to dream.
About death anymore.
He said he liked waking up to her face. She asked him if He was scared.

Yes, he is.