And You Thought You Were the Only One
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by Mark Bibbins Someone waits at my door. Because he is dead he has time but I have my secrets—— this is what separates us from the dead. See， I could order take-out or climb down the fire escape， so it's not as though he is keeping me from anything I need. While this may sound like something I made up， it is not； I have forgotten how to lie， despite all my capable teachers. Lies are， in this way， I think， like music and all is the same without them as with. The fluid sky retains regret， then bursts. He is still there， standing in the hall， insisting he is someone I once knew and wanted， come laden with gifts he cannot return. If I open the door he'll flash and fade like heat lightning behind a bank of clouds one summer night at the edge of the world. |
