I didn't make present those days he didn't complain but I knew he was sick, felt sick, and a look would pass between us, a doomed look that nonetheless
Only three days later I realized the chalk outline was gone, faded, no doubt, in the rains that flushed the gutters clean, & now a steady line of haze
as the sun walks its beat. There were photographers, yes, a few nights back: flashbulbs burp [...]
The graveyard being what he called his face; even as a young man he called his face the graveyard—he talked like that, funny, odd things that scared me sometimes
in our early years—I thought maybe he was a little touched (his Uncle Bob was certi [...]
It is night. I feel it is night not because darkness has fallen (what do I care about darkness falling) but because down in myself the shouting has stopped, has given up.
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