Thursday, October 25, 2007

Cosma Akakiova, a Broken Nose, and Puppetry

My nose throbs as I type. I tilt my head
upwards and hear Cosma giggle. She's curled
inside me like a lap dog. I, at times, feel helpless
when I think of mother and what she'd think.

Blood and clear liquid runs from my nose. I called the student
nurse and she told me I was a "worry-wart". Easy for her to
be cavalier. She's not afflicted with a swollen honker running 
like a leaky faucet.
(Whine, Whine.) So to the good stuff. I went out with Cosma.

She took me to her favorite record store, Snatch Monsoon.
A great place! So much stuff by my fave C--- O---! She doesn't
care for him because he tried to score heroin from her in Topeka.
We took a walk afterwards and it was lovely. Night vanquished 
the sky. Stars were bright, no moon to steal their fire! I could
say more about an old bench, proximity, and softness. She was gentle.
Tired and pleasurably disposed, we hopped on her Motorcycle and
sped off. I asked her to take me to the Group Home where I work
to check on some kids. Upon arrival one child, 9 years old, an habitual
pick-pocketer, was throwing a tantrum. It's amazing how strong these
little creatures can be. He picked up a mini-refrigerator and threw it 
at my face. It smashed my nose. What a scene! Cosma's kisses saved 
me from beating the child and we left.
She dropped me off at home and sped away, peeling out with such
√©lan my heart lept! But I should've been wary. Moonless nights are 
ominous. Cosma veered left on a country road and accelerated to 
80 mph, feasting on freedom as her hair whipped like a mare's tail.
A few miles further she hit a deer head on and flipped off the bike.
She was thrown 400 ft, impaled by three branches of an Oak Tree.
They found her suspended like a puppet.

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