Stumbling out
done with the
existence
responsibility.
"I don't even know if this
is worth it anymore."
Bradley began blathering
after hibernation.
The good air
was either too hot
(jockey shorts) or
unmitigatedly frigid,
(the toggle wool coat
and leather duffle bag) but
it kept moving.
From the solar
north pole
into night.
Cruel crunch of
not putting the finger on it.
Something was not right,
yes.
If murderous,
the implication must oblique
into a late morning meal.
Everyone huffing eggs.
"I did not offer you the scarf
to be the boss!" the latrine is
a ways off south. Maybe
Div going there accidentally.
Maybe the social tree
grew deep roots in dust too fast.
And! between
twilight,
leaning left
if going west!
the sun will set
if you let it.
Less jouisance
than was talked about
because less vitamin D
from the ultraviolet light.
Brass fittings, the D-
ring opening. And
through a hard vacuum or
gravity, Div Bradely-Notworthit
faded into death. His desiccated
husk in the saltfields between
the great northward
rivers.
