it is my birthday. before the sun rises, i head to the lake. it is my job to watch the swimmers race. nothing ever goes wrong, except for today; by the time i get there, he's mottled mauve and gray. it's over, but we break his ribs anyways.
it doesn't bother me like they think it will. how do i let them know that death has been hanging over me since february? how do i rekindle that kind of flame? i had to say goodbye to another friend; i don't know when i'll see her again. the next one leaves in a week; i don't know if i want to see him again. it didn't bother me at first.
my friend's cat had kittens. i love them, i hold them; they won't stop biting me, and i can't stop sneezing. the smallest one falls asleep in my palm, so frail. my friend looks at me. "oh yeah, our dove died." Pearl is folded up primly on the floor of his cage. he looks like a toy; he has been rotting there, on the ground, for three days.
there are mounds of dirt around us. i'm told that in each mound there are bodies; we are sent to collect them. they have not been claimed by their mourners. they hold me back because i know the corpse i've been assigned to. they want me to drag him out again. (he's drowning in the dirt someone help i cant stand to see his swollen face once more)
i am covered in hives, each one from a kitten claw. i have seen that man die three times. i have given up on caring about anything but my suntan.