A SEVERE GENTLENESS
Steve Gajadhar

A snake cannot breathe through a band-aid. Like this bag around my head—cinched tight—traps air and shrinks with every breath, until all that is left are exhales.

She is yelling at me again, "Have you taken out the garbage yet?"

I pull the bag off my head. "No, Dear." Bash and bash.

"I told you an hour ago. Now take the fucking garbage out!"

Bitch. I take the garbage out. It's full of busted glass. She's always busting glasses when she does the dishes.

When I was a kid, I had a snake in a jar. I poked holes in the lid so it could breathe. A piece of glass slit the snake's side open after I dropped the jar to see what would happen. It bit me on the hand the first time I tried to help it. I wanted to bash and bash and bash, but I didn't. I picked it up instead and spread it out on the picnic table. I peeled back the cuts invisible edges and searched for a soul. I found only white pasty stuff, and blood. I did not want the snake to die, so I tried to fix it, and when I put on the band-aid I was so gentle.

The garbage is out.

"Will you come fix the toaster? I want some toast."

"It's busted, you have to hold the toast down yourself." I want to say: "You are precipitously close to being put in a jar."

I come fix the toaster instead. I hold down her toast while she does other things. Bash and bash and bash. She is interminable and exotic. She is gregarious and friendly.

"What you want on your toast?"

"Jam."

Jam and jam and jam and jam.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, Dear."

I hold down her toast until it burns, "Your toast is burnt." It is smoking.

"Jesus!" Her steps are furious as she approaches the kitchen. Now she will say: "Can't you do anything right?"

She is here. I have the toaster in my hand. Bash and bash and bash. Crumbs flutter down like flakes and lodge in her blood. Like with the bag, I do not feel better, only out of breath.

Like with the snake, I do not want her to die.

"Strawberry?" And when I spread the jam I am so gentle.

© Steve Gajadhar 2005

Steve Gajadhar likes napping on the couch. Especially right after work. He just bought a new house, so now when he naps, he feels powerful. When he wakes up he feels leveraged by debt and low interest rates. He is currently working on an alternative to oil called 710. Steve's fiction has appeared in various places including Eclectica, and Ink Pot.

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