THE SOFT DESTRUCTION OF A SINGLE ENTITY OVER A PERIOD OF TIME ONE MIGHT CALL, AGING
michael j. martin
I killed the gnat-bug and felt sorry for an instant. A full instant. And if you know what an instant is it feels like forever dropping into a hole, or the wings of a butterfly peeled off then reattached with dried elmers glue and super-globular plus (superglue). Patty walks in nude except for her flesh and offers me the dry skin she peeled off her lips. Dinner’s on the stove.
She called me horrible. I knew I was. I knew she was, also, but her saying it and me not, it didn’t seem like she was all that horrible. I had a hammer in my hand.
Somewhere along the road we ditched each other. Dactyl’d one another’s corneas. I drove a couple miles around the mountain, headlights on, squinting because, like I said, dactyl’d. I almost killed myself on a bend, headlights looking at an abominable snowman hunched over, doing what looked like masturbating and having sex with a bobcat. I rubbed my eyes and saw Patty giving me the middle finger and flashing one breast.
Michael J. Martin