Press it to my body,
There won’t be a scandal.
When the spout is fast and ready,
And the past is finally prandial,
We’ll work together to heat the tea,
I will light the candle.
I’ve missed you since our fall,
Since love spilled off the table,
I’ve been kissing at the dried-up pools,
Genesising Cain and Abel,
Searching for the first edition,
Of our Chinese-whispered fable.
His truth goes marching on.
Truth. Go. March on.
The crowd stood silent for a moment. Clearly it meant something to
her, even if that meaning was highly personal and inscrutable.
“We’re innocent,” Yak announced desperately to the crowd,
“We’ve been released. The police have captured the other culprits
already. Please leave us alone.”
“No!” a man shouted, “We want answers!”
“What’s the fucking question?” Izzy yelled at him. It looked like
things were going to get ugly again. The man was literally shaking
with frustration.
“Why!” he finally growled. “Just why.”
“Why what?”
“Why! Why! Why!” he yelled like a broken Village People record.
“You mean, like, why do bad things happen to good people,” Izzy
offered.
“For instance!” the man snapped.
Everyone else turned to him to see what he’d say. But the pale
young man only stood silent before his interrogator.
Paul Partment had been the closest thing to a father he had
known since the accident. He could no longer tread that path.
“They just do,” Izzy told the man, “There’s evil, and there’s accident.
It’s a dividing line that cuts through a single lane. And it’s the only
ABYSSINIA
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