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I Love You

You funnel-chested ones, we say trichterbrusters, with pectus excavatum.

And you with pectus carinatum, whose pigeon-chests metaphorically
I cradle. Those with posterior angulation of the sternum only. You with
Aicardi, Amniotic Band, Angelman, Bannayan-Zonana, Bardet-Biedl,
Basal Cell Nevus, Beckwith-Wiedemann, Benjamin, Bloom, Cat Eye,
or Caudal Regression Syndromes. You who are obese, morbidly obese,
or obese with hypogonadism. You streetwise shammy-happy shamans
of the obese, you obese bishops and Jacks, you cornershop Bo Dietls.
Those with nodular leprosy and leonine facies. The acromegalic man
and the hyperkeratosistic dog. Enuretics. All the spasmodically torticollic,
I love you.

You who I met in the summertime dream of an Eisenhower malt shop
misremembering the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle
over a malformed lemon tart, and all with saddle-noses, atrophic limbs,
or atrophic necks, you with any or several
of CHARGE, Congenital Central Hypoventilation, Costello, Cri du Chat,
De Lange, Down, Fetal-Alcohol, or Freeman-Sheldon Syndromes,
if it is not what you carry in a cell that I bear perpetually in mind
let me not sleep or speak; neither expectorate, honeyfugle, or consume.

Sheldon Adelson, you have honeyfugled in Nevada, in California, in gay
Paree, in your parlor, in a W.C., in Queens. I love you. No different a love
than for the gambling addict, the alcoholic, the holy acolyte, or addictees
to plushie sex, cock-gouging, asphyxiation, tuna, ringworm salad, genital
mutilation, prehensile defibrillation, atrial defibrillation, E-Z anything,
sac-mounting, globule-bursting, carry-ons, gummy snakes, head cheese,
St. John’s wort, cybersexing, amnesia, or serial monogamy. All these
I join amidst the soft false suede of their grandfathers’ basement lairs
and love them nosehair to nosehair. Like scleredema adultorum. Like
them that seep. The serodermatotic. The hydrocephalic. The anorexic
and tabescent and chachetic. The Brag’s-Diseased. The dermally wine-
dark or carbuncular. The steatocryptotic racist with an Albanian Marin-
Amat Syndrome sufferer stuffed in an armchair toe-bag,
whose ill-heard autonomic and surely acrobatic coitus I lovingly observe
in whichever heave-ho I find it. Whatever bolthouse or kitsch hidey-hole.

Have I forgotten the toll of the Goldenhar, Jacobsen, Katz, Klinefelter,
Kabuki, Larsen, Laurence-Moon, Marfan, and Myasthenic Syndromes?
No. The suffering of the psoriatic? The exzematically shunned? Bell-
shaped steatopygiacs? The scrofulodermic? Afflictees of Pityriasis Rosea,
chlamydia, Brooklyn, weapon focus, Cave Bear dentitus, regular scurvy,
vitamin D, GERD, or ventral collapse? No. I say Come All To Be Loved
for you are loved with the same ardency GREAT GOD ALMIGHTY loves
the leukodermatic, or the xanthodantic, or the maxillofacially swollen,
those with distorted orbits or optics or occultist provisions of any kind.
Come in from the cove-lighting, I say, and the Austin swelter. From ill-
fitting knee-highs, retro-fit hip-huggers, “needle-nosing,” D&D-diarrhea
and spectral rain. You, the basilisk-breathed and pyorrheic. Ye peronic or
teratoidal, with thy corpus phrenologically malformed. Yon hunchbacks
suppuratively lesioned, or endocrinologically malodorous, or acervulus-
nosed, whose skin to me is as soft and sweet and sweaty as a bravery.

Once I was not as now. A bugler of the worst kind, simply bungling. Wet.
I sat on love like a medium in a larder, and lost my love for worrying. Yes,
I panicked under the gaze of a beloved friend. I twisted my own nipples.
I was seconds from suicide. Not a woman minding. Nor a man.
Not a baby with Nager’s, nor any afflictee of Nail-Patella, Noonan, or
Ochoa Syndromes. Oculocerebrorenal, Pallister-Killian, Pierre Robin,
Prader-Willi, Proteus, “Prune Belly,” Rett, Robinow, Rubenstein-Taybi?
Not a one laid low by these, nor any narrativizing cyber-strangers from
the insomniatic crook of their Dexilant, Famotidine, Wellbutrin, multi-
vitamin, Mad Dog, irregular Judaism, or scrumptious counter-revelatory
gumption. Least of all in the Age of Saethre-Chotzen, Smith-Lemli-Opitz,
Smith-Magenis, Smith-O’Malley, Smith-O’Neill-Gay, Smith-Porter-
House, Smith-Quigley, Smith-Smith, Smith-Udall, Smith-Underwood,
Smith-Valcor, and Smith-Zemeckis. Not in view of radically “-ectomied”
morbid diaphoretics, the chronically granulomatous, or “Two-Baggers.”
Not considering the hated and dateless and shunned and improbably
thick-ankled. The kyphotic, the lordotic, and the irredeemably cellulitic.
The fatally pulchritudinous. The Actaeonizing. The Medusoid. The papuled.
The plagiarizing and plagiarising. All these I love. The macular, albinic,
noseless, cross-eyed, leprous, varicelliformally eruptive. So when you ask,
Have you forgotten me?

I answer–you brown-eye, you green-eye, you blue-eye, you silly paleface
in weathered Keds making heat-stuck cardigans of air on Ohio sundecks–
Love, who have I? You’re the multiple amputee, the vestigial-tailed, 
me the prosthetically mismatched. You snaggle-toothed, me wattled,
weak-chinned, and walrus-cheeked. We both palate-clefted and really
large-pored. Excessively but not necessarily lycanthropically hirsute.
We both pinheaded. Convulsively Tourettic. Stunted and gnarled or
Parkisonianly tremulous. Like a teratoid of overall visage, twisted and
humped and haliototic. Tri-nostriled. Invaginate of mouth and eye.
Like those with Cushing’s Disease, crow’s feet, birth-marks, nine dollars
in toto, a mole, an overbite, a Gray’s sphincter, or a failed rhinoplasty.
Like those rodential or equine, or lovelorn, or in any way asymmetrical,
we remain.

Posted 05/31/15
Owes a debt to DFW.
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