28 Aug 2007, 8:10am
Writing
by David


The Past, Like Most Lessons

Or the water—what does it have to do to

be safe? When it lies down with you when

you see your reflection, and—you

want to see it. She says, you can’t catch

cancer from other people, but I don’t

trust them. Then, I felt overlooked. I felt

drugged. I felt like my insides were

cooking. Now, after all these years, how

do I find myself all tiny again, all seated

at the table, at the table with my baby-

doll St. Agnes Moorehead, St. Agnes

Moorehead? (And they have a tear.)

St Agnes? The left eye is a little bigger,

or the right one. And the kohl doesn’t

help. She begins to wonder if she’ll be

gone by the first scene. And sometimes

she is gone. Into the first-class cabin,

into the cabin, into the sleeping-car of

whatever vehicle they happen to be on.

She doesn’t reach for her vehicles. Of

course the water is a vehicle: there is

The Pride billowing : The Pride. She

says, I don’t want you to see me like

this. I don’t want you to see me.

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