ETHOS

ETHOS

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Monday

The garbage men came and hauled away what I didn’t use. They looked at the snowman and pulled their stocking caps higher on their heads. The snowman seemed absurd, so rich and useless—these men, so poor and useful, and I ached for all my uselessness-bones marinating like a stew. I wanted them to knock the snowman over and haul it away. I had thrown the Polaroid onto the trash pile. It was a snap judgment, but its glass eye has been forever closed. There’s not much left.

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