Re: By the pond, under the lights: wicked little town/gnosis
The night’s warm breath scudding over the pond cooled the sweat that beaded over Hedwig’s brow, painting dishwater brown several shades darker with damp. It transported him to the shock of back-alley air after a blistering set, sucking on skinny cigarettes beside the trash bins and shivering with more skin exposed than not. How long had it been since he’d performed? He felt a sorry sight. Band, gone. Husbands, both of them, absconded. Leaving only shreds of Hedwig’s heart and dignity behind.
The laughter that filtered through the night’s haze to his ears felt like a mockery in the face of his existential despair. Clutched in his lap, the wig looked a despondent symbol of Hedwig’s ennui. Was he having a breakdown? Breakdown implied a preceding wholeness, a height from which to fall. Hedwig had been living in the gutter for months, begging for scraps of kindness and charity like Odysseus in disguise. Alone, and lost without his other half. He leaned forward to gaze over the edge of the water at the glassy surface, twinkling his reflection back up at him in smears of blue eyeshadow and red-glittered lips. He let out a weary sigh. Even in heartbreak, he was gorgeous. Was this to be his eternal burden?
Someone spoke as they drifted out of obscurity and into Hedwig’s orbit; he glanced disinterestedly over his shoulder and then did a double take. The makeup was heavier around his eyes. The lines of torso more waifish than just the weedy lank of youth. But Hedwig would know those lips anywhere. He sniffed derisively, upper lip curling even as he felt the glimmer of tears in his eyes.