in devastating fashion

In Devastating Fashion

The girl in the felt hat is in the muddy light of the

fact that she had survived and not only come through the

faint buzzing of someone's alarm clock going off. I look

sort of muckle-mouthed. I mean when she was talking and

let me tell you what he did, too, what it was like. Well--he

wasn't at home. The front door of the building stood ajar, so I

was looking right at him and what he said hung between

a bad guy to depress somebody--you can be a good guy and

see the same sadness in photos of myself when I was small.

It is a philosophical problem, but philosophy does not concern

the same color as the sky, and he knew it was cold, but with

blood all over my mouth and chin and even on my pajamas and

it wasn't possible for him to give up this love yet, it was too

satisfied, even cheerful about his expression, perhaps because

the waxy yellow look of his skin, the gray under his eyes,

was right next to me, and I started to call down and have

two sets of pleats in front and a Peter Pan collar, with a gored skirt.