The Autobiography of Red

That was also the day

he began his autobiography. In this work Geryon set down all inside things

particularly his own heroism

and early death much to the despair of the community. He coolly omitted

all outside things.

Geryon would climb back up to his bunk,

recover his pajama bottoms and lie on his back. He lay very straight

in the fantastic temperatures

of the red pulse as it sank away and he thought about the difference

between outside and inside.

Inside is mine, he thought.

No.

I hate you. I don’t care. I’ll tell Mom. Tell Mom what?

How nobody likes you at school.

Geryon paused. Facts are bigger in the dark. Sometimes then he would descend

to the other bunk

and let his brother do what he liked or else hang in between with his face pressed

into the edge of his own mattress,

cold toes balancing on the bed below.

A cat’s-eye

is outranked only by a steelie. And so they developed an economy of sex

for cat’s-eyes.

Pulling the stick makes my brother happy, thought Geryon. Don’t tell Mom,

said his brother.

Voyaging into the rotten ruby of the night became a contest of freedom

and bad logic.

Come on Geryon.

No.

You owe me

He saw the doorway

the house the night the world and

on the other side of the world somewhere Herakles laughing drinking getting

into a car and Geryon’s

whole body formed one arch of a cry—upcast to that custom, the human custom

of wrong love.

His brain was jerking forward like a bad slide projector

Tears ran back into his ears awhile

then no more tears.

He had touched bottom. Feeling bruised but pure he switched off the light.

Fell instantly asleep.

Anger slammed the red fool awake at three a.m. he kept trying to breathe each time

he lifted his head it pounded him

again like a piece of weed against a hard black beach.

After undressing he stood

at the mirror and observed himself emptily. Freedom! The chubby knees

the funny red smell the saddening ways.

Yellow? said Geryon and he was thinking Yellow! Yellow! Even in dreams

he doesn’t know me at all! Yellow!

What’d you say Geryon?

Nothing.

It’s a freedom dream Geryon.

Yes.

Freedom is what I want for you Geryon we’re true friends you know that’s why

I want you to be free.

Don’t want to be free want to be with you.

ne evening at supper when his mother

asked him

what they were like, Geryon could not remember if the librarians were men

or women.