#lidane

When my feet started to rot inside my boots, you scrubbed my toes in a truck-stop bathroom, while I smeared our names in bubbles across the warped mirrors. When scabies scaled my skin, you rubbed me down with Lidane lotion and mummified me in toilet paper--the scratchy public-bathroom kind, so rough it almost leaves splinters. I hobbled through the parking lot, naked save for paper. The truckers whistled, you bristled. There was nothing you couldn’t handle.