Rain goes one way.
That’s one of life’s hard facts.
We laugh, then we die. They stand over our corpses, and say that at least we died laughing.
They decorate us with bracelets and buckles. Then they laugh.
A thousand years from now, you’ll try to curse them. You’ll find it’s not like in the movies. They’ve sucked out all the marrow and sold it to the chicken shack.
True, the dead don’t get around so easy these days. Whether you call it racquetball or squash, it’s not an easy game to play. First you have to get them motivated enough to build you your court. Dredge up the clay.
It’s like going west, hard west. Finding the right lot and the right realtor is like finding the ghost. More and more, life is grim, at least in this particular borough. Clay not flat and long into autumn but bunched up and getting into the grooves of your work shoes that you’re not supposed to wear for the occasion. A personal trainer you have not hired yet pushing you out the door.
More about: Rob Michalchuk
