All my life I’ve been alone. In crowds I stood apart, despised. Cast out by unknown parents, jetsam washed ashore in foster homes devoid of love, in sterile institutions, schools where only hate was taught. Ralph had brought me love. A look of pleasure eating what I cooked, a brush of whiskers, tender touches. Two of us alone against the world, sharing glances of contentment, needing no one else. Then another — stealing love that Ralph had owed to me. I watched in secret all his furtive touches, licking, rubbing, riding wildly on her back, entwined in knots that locked me out again. The anguish made it easy – soporific drugs to dull his mind and lull his sleeping muscles – only useless twitching as I held him in the tub and watched the rising water still his struggles. All my life I’ve been alone.
Written Apr 1998 by David L Brungart - © Copyright