"Travels in the Flesh" by Daniel Cureton

I.
We met when I rolled up to Best Buy,
My favorite part of “Silver Highway” by Lord of Synth was playing at 1:32
                                                  (on my iPhone)
 
Our eyes met in the evening sun.
You were darker
              than in your black and white pic on Scruff.
I loved that
        (my cactus fever.)
 
You said you wanted companionship--
I had no expectations.
 
We drove the valley, waiting for Big Daddy’s pizza,
talking of our Master’s degrees; science fiction lovers you and I.
                                         (Isaac Asimov, Kim Stanley Robinson)
 
You wanted chicken, and it was a pesto sauce
                              (not bad, pretty good)
You paid—our first date, even though you were a foreign visitor--
Colombia’s Bogotá runs in your veins, on the high top of
                                La dama de la montaña brillante
 
We talked and got to know each other.
You smiled—got up, initiated our first kiss.
I sat you on my lap and we explored our lips.
 
I caressed your small tight back, as you pressed your small body
against my big one.
 
The couch was an open friend, supportive to our new romance,
before the bed called us with anticipation.
 
I spent five days with you of seven.
You whispered sweet nothings in my ear.
How you loved the flush in my face when your lips met,
the grey whiskers in my beard,
and the strong hand on your hips.
 
II.
You were the first person to tell me you were HIV positive
after I penetrated you.
                                               
It was the evening of departure, Colombia willing you home.
The shock wave was instant through my body
as I parked before dinner.
 
You then continued you were Undetectable
Of course, I know that means Untransmitable;
The science says U=U.
 
I dated poz guys—slept with them too.
        All that was fine. YOU were fine.
                 But the trust was not mine.
 
Even though I forgot to ask in our mad rush
                            (something I rarely do)
It was you who should have evoked it.
 
I’m so happy you are responsible since the infection 4 years ago
 
You take care,
you take the daily meds,
you ensure you’re not the plague,
or have the “dirty blood”, the clean ignorants say.
 
We didn’t know each other really—acquaintances who had fun.
And you couldn’t tell me before I slung it.
How could I trust U?
 
To urgent care for PeP.
I wasn’t on PrEP
         (like I should have been,)
 
I was stuck four times—my slippery veins,
needled till purple and blue--
JUST IN CASE.
 
Blood consulted, even though the 72-hour window passed—I agreed.
 
III.
A foreign source,
I confronted you on Whatsapp,
and you told me the story.
Doctors. Dates. Testing—how could I tell you that I couldn’t trust you?
 
Yet, I got the fever,
the chills,
the sweats the night you left.
 
But you didn’t know the day before I got the flu shot.
Misery to my concerns:
Is it HIV, or flu viral reaction?
The burden of uncertainty was mine.
 
You are so far away, living your life high in the Andes--
on the southern continent.
Time slides by
as life glides in the North.
 
Tests resolved,
you fade into future days.
A memory loved--
tucked away.

---

​Daniel is a writer, editor, publisher, avant-garde artist. He holds an MA in English from Weber State University. A career librarian-archivist with an MLS, he is currently living in Salt Lake City, UT-continuing to write and make art.

Website: www.danielcureton.com

---