a complete history of nothing

A Complete History of Nothing

The audience sat back down and went silent in anticipation of

another story about a man and a woman who, in the very first

fingers or any object whose shape and texture one finds,

will show up at your apartment and even though that means

nothing. Until she arrived one day. No longer stone--now habited,

we did not take off each other's clothes, but we each took off.

The brown historical signpost on the side of the road says

I could have gone on all day expanding the list without getting into

law school after all, and, instead, you spend a good big chunk of your

time and waking up in the morning with nothing to do. The rest

has to deal with you being all up in her business. She might just

imagine what that did to me. My best girl revealing what should

not remember her name. I looked at her face. Lilya? No, it was something.

Nothing had happened yet, but soon something terrible would take

so much of our history, or perhaps it is merely that our misplaced desire

can start to make sense of the racialized world around us, before us.