I’m in awe of this man. What an extraordinarily powerful piece, still picking my mouth up off the floor.
How many canes can one observe without finally exploding?
He walks with a cane and smells like a mouse.
He has food caked on his sleeves.
There are stains on his cuffs. He smells of urine and old socks.
His wife attacks him; she berates him.
The old man will die of emphysema.
My mother promised to leave. “Why would you go to his funeral?”
She didn’t want a priest or a minister, she wanted show girls and fireworks.
She wanted to humiliate him. She ended up disgracing herself.
She’s glad he’s dead. Glad he’s gone. “Hallelujah.”
He begs not be resuscitated, but she forgets.
He wants to die in peace, why not?
She is asked but is silent. The paramedics smash out his teeth
and jam a pipe down his throat. He lives for days.
He keeps a lock on the door of the den. He runs in there…
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