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• Classic-Fiction

but her movements coincide exactly

to the rhythms of the

symphony…

she is dark, she is dark

she is reading about God.

I am God.

hell is a lonely place

he was 65, his wife was 66, had

Alzheimer’s disease.

he had cancer of the

mouth.

there were

operations, radiation

treatments

which decayed the bones in his

jaw

which then had to be

wired.

daily he put his wife in

rubber diapers

like a

baby.

unable to drive in his

condition

he had to take a taxi to

the medical

center,

had difficulty speaking,

had to

write the directions

down.

on his last visit

they informed him

there would be another

operation: a bit more

left

cheek and a bit more

tongue.

when he returned

he changed his wife’s

diapers

put on the tv

dinners, watched the

evening news

then went to the

bedroom, got the

gun, put it to her

temple, fired.

she fell to the

left, he sat upon the

couch

put the gun into his

mouth, pulled the

trigger.

the shots didn’t arouse

the neighbors.

later

the burning tv dinners

did.

somebody arrived, pushed

the door open, saw

it.

soon

the police arrived and

went through their

routine, found

some items:

a closed savings

account and

a checkbook with a

balance of

$1.14

suicide, they

deduced.

in three weeks

there were two

new tenants:

a computer engineer

named

Ross

and his wife

Anatana

who studied

ballet.

they looked like another

upwardly mobile

pair.

the girls and the birds

the girls were young

and worked the

streets

but often couldn’t

score, they

ended up

in my hotel

room

3 or 4 of

them

sucking at the

wine,

hair in face,

runs in

stockings,

cursing, telling

stories…

somehow

those were

peaceful

nights

but really

they reminded me

of long

ago

when I was a

boy

watching my grandmother’s

canaries make

droppings

into their

seed

and into their

water

and the

canaries were

beautiful

and

chattered

but

never

sang.

1813–1883

listening to Wagner

as outside in the dark the wind blows a cold rain the

trees wave and shake lights go

off and on the walls creak and the cats run under the

bed…

Wagner battles the agonies, he’s emotional but

solid, he’s the supreme fighter, a giant in a world of

pygmies, he takes it straight on through, he breaks

barriers

an

astonishing FORCE of sound as

everything here shakes

shivers

bends

blasts

in fierce gamble

yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as

nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and

back down into the

gut

some men never

die

and some men never

live

but we’re all alive

to night.

no leaders, please

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,

don’t swim in the same slough.

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself

and

stay out of the clutches of mediocrity.

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,

change your tone and shape so often that they can

never

categorize you.

reinvigorate yourself and

accept what is

but only on the terms that you have invented

and reinvented.

be self-taught.

and reinvent your life because you must;

it is your life and

its history

and the present

belong only to

you.

song

Julio came by with his guitar and sang his

latest song.

Julio was famous, he wrote songs and also

published books of little drawings and

poems.

they were very

good.

Julio sang a song about his latest love

affair.

he sang that

it began so well

then it went to

hell.

those were not the words exactly

but that was the meaning of the

words.

Julio finished

singing.

then he said, “I still care for

her, I can’t get her off my

mind.”

“what will I do?” Julio

asked.

“drink,” Henry said,

pouring.

Julio just looked at his

glass:

“I wonder what she’s doing

now?”

“probably engaging in oral

copulation,” Henry

suggested.

Julio put his guitar back in

the case and

walked to the

door.

Henry walked Julio