Wednesday, December 20, 2006

The Sick Man

I think I’m coming down with something, I called down the stairs to the jaundice patient waiting for dinner at my table. In my arms, an object that I could not make sense of. The power was out. I just stood there. I could see very little. The lake in the distance, the moon, the impossible everything in the maddening rhythm of a sick man pounding the table for food.

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