It's Death. She's lying next to me while I cross and uncross my feet, lying facedown on the bed, swathed in sheets. Yes, I sleep on my belly like a snake and yes, I sleep in the nude. This does not daunt the dark lady, who seems to want to clothe me in kisses and cigarette smoke. But she thinks that a carnation pinned where one's lapel should be is adequate coverage. Me-- i just say "ouch" but only because I fear for her safety. That pin can't be too clean.

When she rises and walks out into the dimly lit parking lot, wearing only the filthy orange glow of the streetlamp, I think-- "please let there be no broken glass to cut her feet!" She dips her head to sniff the flower like a third breast and the streetlamp winks out, is exterminated.

<<agé chose>>

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