his head fell on the table with a sickening thud
in those moments she wept bitterly
as the car rolled down the interstate
it was certainly very good of you
but he does not see things the way we do
his head fell on the table with a sickening thud
“what other kind of thud is there?”
and rolled around like a beach ball
she tried to remain calm and do her duty
he does not see things the way we do
her tears flowed like a fine white wine
at the horror she had discovered inside him
you must earn your own living
painful as it is to contemplate
since we are speaking of serious things
she had never been so humiliated
traffic was light as dusk fell
as if he were praying
she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the bitter tears
the horrors kept piling up
because he did not see the things the way we do
like civilized and rational human beings
he could not really be praying
you must earn your own living
just like it says in the bible
do not let him suspect what you are thinking
“we can not piece together exactly what happened”
sources: frankenstein, by mary shelley;
dracula, by bram stoker;
three lives, by gertrude stein;
the counterfeiters, by andre gide;
lust for life, by irving stone;
native son, by richard wright;
memoirs of a shy pornographer by kenneth patchen;
finistere, by fritz peters;
pictures from an institution, by randall jarrell;
last exit to brooklyn, by hubert selby;
daughter of evil, by jerry weil;
the dark side of love, by jerry weil
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