The World as Seen Through a Glass of Ice Water
There are a billion reasons to look down into a casket, but just one way to lie in it dead, which proves there isn't anything you can think of that isn't here for the living, who are each alive for a short time in a very different way. After she moves out, one tears up grass blades to watch which way the wind blows. Just over there, another buried his favorite dog and now look at that tree! Would you like to model for me? says the lousy painter to every woman who walks within earshot. Feeling a little dead? Maybe you spend a weekend faking a French accent, maybe you buy an even more expensive stereo and build a separate and self-sufficient world inside the garage. Something happens something happens something happens. Repetition repetition repetition. The saddest painting I ever saw was on the carpet in my friend's hallway where he tripped one night carrying a gallon of red. This was just before the divorce. Just after he told me he was trapped inside some idea of himself, one he swore bore no relation to what the rest of us had been seeing. "Nice shirt" has always meant too many things.
From Skirmish by Dobby Gibson. Copyright © 2009 by Dobby Gibson. Used by permission of Graywolf Press. All rights reserved.