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Gene Hackman fan art by http://malevolentnate.deviantart.com/
ELLYN TOUCHETTE

Gene Hackman Reluctantly Accompanies Me To The Spa

My rationale is that we’ve been doing His stuff 
all day and that we always do what He 
wants to do and when’s it my turn, y’know, 
like when do we get to do my things?

This is how Gene Hackman and I end up
in adjacent mud baths at the Portland Regency 
Hotel and Spa. We’ve got the eyeball
 cucumbers and everything. I’m starting
to think it might shape up to be an alright day.

I can’t see Gene through the green haze
 of my facial vegetable slices,
but a palpable crunch gives away what is going on.

I remove said vegetables and observe Gene,
upright and indignant, gnawing on an entire cucumber
which He has produced from an entire basket of cucumbers
which He has produced from I-don’t-even-want-to-know where.

He looks over, because I have made
the kind of sound you make when you discover
a muddy Gene Hackman taking furious
bites out of a cucumber to your immediate left.

He asks what the eyeball cucumbers are even for,
and gives me a self-righteous arm gesture
when I can’t come up with a good answer. He gets
out of the tub and stalks, naked, away,
flinging cucumbers left and right as he goes.

He hits every suburban housewife in the room. 

Gene forgets no one.
 




Gene Hackman Only Wants Whole Foods' Sushi

Gene will not admit that He has fucked up,
so He eats silently, wearing a scowl so pronounced 
that I think if I were I to slap Him hard on the back 
His face would get stuck like that forever,
third-grade-wives’-tale style.

It isn’t JAPANESE sushi.

You aren’t in Japan, Gene. The sushi is fine.

Well, [Author name redacted], tell me. When is the last time 

YOU were in Japan? Have you even been to Japan?

No, Gene, I have not.


Gene smirks. Then I guess that makes me
the sushi expert in this scenario.
And I say you fucked up. 



This was your idea, Gene.

Gene redirects His gaze to the sushi bar 
and all the fish spoils.
 




I Ask Gene Hackman If He's Cool To Just Hang Out While I Go To Therapy

Gene Hackman is next to me, slumped way down 
in one of the impossibly uncomfortable chairs 
because that is the only feasible way to survive
in one of Maine Behavioral Healthcare’s 
impossibly uncomfortable chairs.

I’d like to think He’s scowling at the unforgivable
art deco carpet/upholstery situation
rather than at the prospect of sitting
still for forty-five minutes while I work
on becoming a better me, but I am no fool.

Aren’t you supposed to be here to save me?

He flops His head to the side.

This therapist. Does she know that I am With you? 


Gene, you’ve been here for like… eight hours.
Gene Hackman places a hand on my wrist.

She’s always known that I was coming. 
It is time to tell her that I am here.
 


Gene Hackman and I Drive Home in Silence













































 


Gene Hackman Takes a Shower and I Wonder What All This Means

Gene Hackman is in the shower.
I think. Someone is in the shower. 
He knows the worst of me now.

Gene Hackman has been in the shower for four minutes 
and I am already lonely. How am I already lonely?

Gene Hackman is in the shower 
and I don’t think he’s coming back 
and goddamnit I’m lonely
I have a queen bed now.
It’s going to swallow me alive.

Where are you, Gene Hackman? 
Come back, Gene Hackman.

I do not know how to sit
in a big bed without hating myself, Gene Hackman.
I do know how to look in the mirror 
without feeling alone, Gene Hackman.

Gene Hackman has been in the shower 
for ten minutes and I am going to die
alone in this bed on my forty-five dollar sheets 
forty-five fucking dollars for some fucking sheets 
you can’t die on forty-five dollar sheets.

I think my lungs are shrinking, Gene Hackman; 
I think all of my organs are bile ducts.
My torso is filling with slime, Gene, like salt 
water flowing into a locked box.
I am the box, Gene

I don’t think I can do this.
I’ve only been listening to my own organs 
for fifteen minutes but I can hear
my stomach moving
 
did you know that silence can drive you insane, Gene? 
if all you can hear are your organs you lose your mind

come back to bed Gene,
back to my slathering remains 
I am lonely, Gene Hackman.

I think that is why you are here.
I am something like a god of loneliness, Gene:

There is no limit to what I will create 
to keep from listening to myself.

Ellyn Touchette is a biologist and behavioral health professional from Portland, Maine. Some of her recent work can be found in The Emerson Review, Black Heart Magazine, and Drunk in a Midnight Choir.
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