Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
grandmother used to say, you can always find something wrong with someone else if you really want to.
Having made the decision to love, had I chosen life instead of death?
I would feel much better about this whole affair if you would slap me and get it over with. I know you want to.
I read the Chronicle this morning
as if I were stepping into voluntary
and watched the news go over my shoes
with forty-four more days of spring.
May 7, 1970
The velocities and forces involved in anything at orbital altitudes were enough to kill a human with just the rounding error. At their speeds, the friction from air too thin to breathe would set them on fire.
For the longest time I studied revenge to the exclusion of all else. I built my first torture chamber in the dark vaults of imagination. Lying on bloody sheets in the Healing Hall I discovered doors within my mind that I’d not found before, doors that even a child of nine knows should not be opened. Doors that never close again. I threw them wide.
-Tío, la casa se está llenando -le digo-. Es como si viviéramos en la parte de abajo de un reloj de arena.
Como si se nos estuviera terminando el tiempo.
Como ser enterrados vivos.