My Life in the Ghost of Reggie Bush

It is 2011 and Reggie Bush is holding me. “Did you know I rushed for over 3,000 yards in college?”

“No,” I say. “But I love you anyway.”

“I want to take Klonopin until I am poisoned enough to die,” he says. “Trojan yellow ones,” he says.

I ask if he has a condom. A Trojan.

“No foreplay? We could watch football? It’s Thursday”

“We could watch comedy too,” I say, even though I hate laughing.

I tell Reggie that in ten years there will be new stand up comics in Brooklyn and they will like football and a senator from Vermont named Bernie Sanders

And they will know you deserved that Heisman

They’re what we will call reactionary liberals They will defend Louis C.K

“What happens to Louis?” Reggie asks “Something about jacking off,” I say.

“I like to Jack off,” Reggie says.

“It’s how I’m so strong” he says.

I tell him I am not like them though. I never saw Louis.

My favorite comedian is Lenny Bruce.

I’m like Benjamin Button and I can travel to any time ever or live backwards or whatever. So I saw Lenny the first day he ever told a dirty joke.

“Wow,” Reggie says. “That’s amazing,” Reggie says.

“Why didn’t you stop Hitler, though?” Reggie asks.

“I forgot,” I say.

“It’s a curse,” I say.

“Until now,” I say.

I have chosen to be here with you Reggie Bush. The night they took back your Heisman Trophy.

Because I love you and I can hold you and not say anything because I don’t know anything.

I can’t talk about football.

Because I don’t know.

“I love you,” Reggie says.

“I love you too,” I say.

Then I get on my knees and put his cock in my mouth. “Look at me,” I say.

“Do you remember the pose?” I say. Reggie nods.

“One more time,” I say.

“I’m not bronze” he says.

“I’m Black,” he says.

“I know,” I say.

Reggie lifts his knee and puts his arm out straight. He is a statue. His cock is deep in the back of my throat.

I swallow the Heisman Trophy’s cum.

I am a football player now.