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        Daughters of the Dirt / Sarah Higdon

Cialis
by Diane Fleming

I miss my boyfriend Lex. It was his new fascination with Viagra and Cuban women that did us in. Though I have only myself to blame – I introduced him to the potent lifestyle. We would relax, overlooking a panoramic view, from our perch on a hill in twin bathtubs, always ready for the moment if it came unexpectedly, as it does when you are naked in an outdoor bathtub overlooking the Grand Canyon and your lover is next to you in his own outdoor bathtub, and for sure, when I want to gaze into the Grand Canyon, I like to be naked in a bathtub, one with claw feet.

One day, the moment overtook us unexpectedly. In fact, I had just turned to Lex and said, "If a relaxing moment turns into the right moment, will you be ready?" And he had said, "Oh yes, dear. I was considerate enough to have popped a Cialis just this morning."

Before I knew it, we were together in a single bathtub, my head banging passionately against the faucet, his feet slip-sliding against the soapy porcelain, two middle-aged fat-asses wedged in a tub, for who else but middle-aged fat-asses need Cialis anyway?

And I feel suffocated, claustrophobic, and before I know what’s happened, a boulder rolls down the hill from behind us and crushes Lex’s leg.

I wonder, will we die here? All alone atop the Grand Canyon naked in bathtubs? Why don’t I have my cell phone? I could call my husband and explain the situation, how the moment overtook us, but we were ready. Ready for anything but a stray boulder rolling down a hill.

In desperation, Lex reads his empty Cialis bottle, looking for instructions. It says: “Erections that last longer than four hours, though rare, require immediate medical attention.”

“Uh-huh,” I say.

And he reads, “The most common side effects with Cialis are headache, upset stomach, back pain, muscle aches and legs crushed by free-rolling boulders.”

“Oh yes,” I say.

Lex, not one to give into despair, and feeling the strength imparted by Cialis, pulls a pocketknife out of his ass and cuts off his own leg, using my long flowing hair as a tourniquet (Cialis does that to women – gives them long-flowing hair) and he returns to his own bathtub and we use the pocketknife to cut the claw feet off the tubs and we turn our respective bathtubs into sleds and we slide into the Grand Canyon like the tobogganing free spirits that we are, naked in bathtubs, me with my hair tangled around the faucet and Lex’s thigh, and Lex with his bloody stump and when we arrive back at base camp, Lex’s friend Bill says,

"Wow, there is something different about you, Lex. Did you lose weight?"

And his friend Sally says, "Wow, you sure have a new skip in your step these days, Lex. Did you get a haircut?"

But only we know our secret and I grab Lex around his waist and we dance naked in the moonlight and I cry out, I love this man, I love him, I love him. I do.
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Diane Fleming is an award-winning writer and poet in Austin.  Her stuff makes mama very, very happy.

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