novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- silence and failed lungs so i just found out that my grandfather has advanced cancer that has spread throughout both of his lungs. my mother's father, the one who left us seven years ago. his telephone number is written on the back of my hand in ballpoint pen. i keep tracing its digits with the half-bitten nail on my left index finger, over and over. driving home from work, i stared at the rear windshield of the car in front of me on the freeway. there was no glass, just plastic taped over where the windshield should be, but the rear wiper kept sweeping back and forth over it, wiping away invisible raindrops, shifting the plastic in rounded waves. 6:09 pm - 07.29.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||