Have you ever passed by Ladder Co. 63 on Great Jones Street? Those firefighters are really hot, and their uniforms turn me on. I know every firefighter is sort of hot, but these guys go beyond the call of duty. Black raincoats, suspenders, blue Dickies - delicious. Once, the last time Tim Blue was in town, me and Mary were walking with him past Ladder Co. 63, and we saw some mouth-watering firefighters out front. I asked them if they could "put out the fire in my loins," and at first, they mocked me. But then, I guess, my phrase's magic worked itself on them, and they started to melt into hysterical laughter. One of them collapsed.
My own life has been touched many times by fire. My sister says that our mother thought I was going to burn down her home when I was a child. And eventually, I did burn down my own home, in 1996, by leaving a burner on for warmth. Firefighters saved me then, but I was alarmed to see that they fight indoor fires primarily with axes, not water. I was wearing a white robe when that happened. I waited downstairs while hot firefighters faced down their sworn enemy - flame. And then I lived for weeks in a blackened apartment with wood slats for windows. The fire happened two days before the blizzard of 1996, with the coldest temperatures ever recorded in NYC. The cold penetrated me, but not without its own tenderness, and in some ways, I've been cold ever since.
It cost so much money to repair my apartment. I didn't have it, so I moved to California, and my father fixed my apartment so he could rent it out. We do what we must to get what we want. Fires have taught me that. And what have I taught them? I guess, that I, like almost everything else, am flammable.
1 comment:
wow this was good. i kind of want to reprint it somewhere. i wish i published some little literary mag, i would put this story in it
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