Tuesday, December 11, 2007


Reading books printed on better quality
paper, knowing people with straighter
backbones: these are the difference makers;

the deal breakers are those quaint notions
of fairness and clarity. Avoid like plague.
Fifty pages in and it’s not that there isn’t

a narrative to speak of, there’s no ink on
the pages to make letters that form words
that create meaning and suggest a plot.

His old librarian said it best by saying it
plainly: “We have some very nice new
books.” And his heart cracked pityingly

for her and the way she smiled at him,
with her pock marks and saliva playing
major roles. She clearly having forgotten

beating him some years earlier. Who
knows? Maybe it never happened. Keep
rearranging the ticket stubs, even the ones

you pick up off the floor; there is a story
in there and it doesn’t require decoding
in the strict sense. The titles, show times,

sometimes there’s a row number and a
seat number: it will become painfully
obvious when it all snaps into focus and

once you stop feeling foolish for having
missed it in the first place. Repeat it all
back to me slowly so I know that you

understand. In this way, life is revealed.



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