turn. turning. hit the brick with two dozen fists.
do you mind the dead? the dozen fists.
turn. the key is dropped on pavement.
the dead. always there. do you mind?
hit the brick with two dozen fists.

he keeps on walking. like a night
patrolman. turn. turning. like a night
patrolman. do you mind? Do you mind the dead?
stops at the corner. the shaft of light.
cool. feels like rain. sniffs in air.
nothing. keeps walking.
the key is dropped on pavement.
do you mind the dead? the dozen fists.
hit the brick with two dozen fists.

the dead. always there. do you mind?

he keeps on walking.

september never was his time of year.
the coals burn in the iron stove in the corner
of the room. cool. like a night--
stops at the corner. the coals burn.
the shaft of light. sniffs the air.
feels like rain. the key is dropped on pavement.
turn. turning. do you mind the dead?
hit the brick with two dozen fists. do you mind?
the dead? turn. turning. the dead. turning.
do you mind? feels like rain. he keeps on walking
hit the brick. the key is dropped.
the dead. always there.

do you mind?

07/07/2007

Author's Note: inspired by a samuel beckett monologue

Posted on 07/07/2007
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