Wednesday, March 26, 2008


“we believe in different invisible men”

The dust in the sunlight careened off his baldness. His skin was retreating into liver spots. It’d had enough. He wasn’t wearing a jacket (odd for this time of year) and his, I guess you could call them breasts, resembled the tiny teacups of a fine dinette set. He hemmed and hawed as though he was conceived in butter- and not blood, but margarine coursed through his veins. His days were numbered. There are two kinds of bread, Lester said (his name was Lester): the sort you eat and the sort you pay for. Occasionally he would wander in out of the blue and offer us his summation on the merits of occidental religions. I think he hated Gore Vidal. A devout Jesuit who moonlighted as a therapist for inner city youth had run the deli. Sometimes he wore religious sweatpants. God ran down the leg. Him and Lester believed in different invisible men. The deli has since closed and been converted into a magnet school for children with hyperactive disorders.

first draft. written at work.

1 comment:

Ryan said...

Exit strategy: Into liver spots.