C22
Public Record
Excerpt from novel: Best Cellar

I’m at the end of my fuels I think.

Carrie's gone and Isaac's dead.

Goddamn if I've got anything left.
My right brain says the world's out there, go explore it.
My left brain says Magellan's already done all the work.

Hell if I'm not talking in metaphors all the time these days,
but fifty-nine does that to you I think.
My dad's been dead for twenty-some-odd years,
but he was always talking in metaphors
and I didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about.
Or maybe I just wasn't listening.
Now he and I could probably have a completely figurative conversation
and be right on track with each other.
He died at sixty-seven.
People say, “Oh that's so young.”
And it is, sure. Not improbable, just unfortunate.
He had a stroke from all those cigars and prescription drugs.
I cleaned that old man's ass for nine months, which was nine months too many.
He couldn't say but three words, and even those ones not so good.
He could yell "Yes!" and "No!" and "Shit!".
That last one he mostly yelled when yes and no didn't suffice.

Every car that drives up the street my heart jumps.
It never tells me whether it jumps from excitement or fear.
I think excitement sometimes.
She stormed off in the good car.
That might be what I miss most.

Thresher Charles