Robin Zitaruk

Lungs, Heart, Fever..

Lungs, heart, fever… All that I am and all I am worth hangs around my neck. I have no identity, no name, I am just known by what useful organ pumps through my body. I am no longer seen as a human being, just a heart. Gone are the days of Laura’s, Harry’s, Susan’s or Bennett’s. In truth the latter is not much of a loss, I always found the name Bennett to be too uppity for my taste. It always brought to mind images of sun streaked hair, turned up collars and fancy cars bought for spoiled offspring who would never appreciate it.