He remembers friendship from the outside. In Oz, there is no friendship, only alliances.
A can rolling over a glittering puddle of pulverized glass. A new watch for his collection, endless time in the fishbowl heaven of Emerald City. Fingers clinging to the fence inches apart from one another. Twin conquests on either side of the panopticon, a cigarette in the mick’s hand, a noisemaker in his mouth. Blood pouring from every one of the old wop’s holes. Plastic trays and rat shit, a hat passed back and forth. A letter read in the back of the kitchen, filled with false promise.
If she sucks my cock, I’ll suck yours.
The cancer severs their connection. The doctor unwillingly tangles herself in the red string that once bound their souls. The child-man replaces him as a brother.
The woman on death row takes one look at Simon. The word she calls him is delivered matter of factly, without malice. The hacks drag him away.
That’s an appetizing thought. Pass.
---
He remembers sex from the outside. In Oz, there is no sex, only fucking.
He fucks Ryan in the storage closet. He sucks his cock under the stairs. He kisses his neck in front of the barricade. He slices off Ryan’s face in a dream and drapes it over his own, tasting him from the inside. He watches Ryan pull open his ribcage and lift his still-beating heart from his gaping torso, cradling it like a newborn. He runs his tongue across miles and miles of Ryan’s skin and baptises himself in a river of Ryan’s blood. He lets Ryan fuck the hole in his chest where his heart used to be.
You have a bad heart.
When he fucks Peter Schibetta, it’s almost perfect.
When he remembers it later, he positions Ryan across from him, in Little Nino’s mouth.
What can I say? I’m a bad-heart motherfucker.
---
He remembers happiness from the outside. In Oz, there is no happiness, only oblivion.
They both squeeze tits, but never the same pair. Simon has his Homeboys, O’Reily has the lawyer the one-eyed Nazi stole from him. He watches them touch each other and wonders if tits are the only thing they suck together. He imagines it as he pushes himself into the mouth on its knees in front of him.
I’ve been clean since my time in the hole.
The lie rolls off his tongue like a marble and shatters into dust at his feet. The hand on his arm feels like a python constricting, any tighter and he’ll lose it (what ‘it’ is, he doesn’t know).
O’Reily’s eyes were feverish when he watched Beecher tie up Schillinger in the gym. O’Reily’s eyes are pained when he watches Beecher kick Simon where he lays trussed and delirious on the mattress, waiting for the SORT team to destroy their brief paradise.
Clean for what, huh?
---
He remembers love from the outside. In Oz, there is no love, only death.
I have everything. Everything I need. Every love satisfied.
Simon pushes open the door to his pod and staggers out to face the crowd. The Lord of the Dance has a back-row seat to his grand finale, behind the grinning shark that once fucked the lawyer. Their eyes lock as he coughs up blood.
But it's not enough.
In another life they reign together. In another life they die together. In another life they tear the world apart and remake it in their own image. In another life his last breath is shared.
We’re still in Oz.