Thursday, August 20, 2009

Them aside like one of the small pile of dead.

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Out of the fields and hollows blurring the lines of the buildings and putting fairy haloes around the street lamps. This morning's paper says a girl was killed on the New Sharon campus near the Civil War cannons. She was killed last night and found in a melting snowbank. She was not she was not all there. My wife is upset. She wants to know where I was last night. I can't tell her because I don't remember. I remember starting home from work and I remember putting my headlights on to search my way through the lovely creeping fog but that's all I remember. I've been thinking about that foggy night when I had a headache and walked for air and passed all the lovely shadows without shape or substance. And I've been thinking about the trunk of my car - such an ugly word trunk -and wondering why in the world I should be afraid to open it. I can hear my wife as I write this in the next.
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