I met you at recess on the first day of grade two, when Glen was showing me around the playground. You were on the swings, tucking your body in the backswing and whipping your legs out to propel yourself up.
"This is Robert," Glen said, "he's pretty weird". "My name's not Robert anymore!" You shouted. "It's Bobert!" Your body straightened as you hit the upswing, looking to inch past that moment when the chains slackened and your body lifted up out of the seat, your own energy carrying you beyond the completion of the arc.
"See, I told you he was weird," Glen said. Ten years later you walked home from a party and killed yourself with a shotgun. You left no note.
5 comments:
Sad about Bobert and his hasty exit. My pending x365 list has accrued a handful of guys who died young, even though that's not why they stuck in my memory; their deaths are more of a sad coda to lives I found interesting. I just find myself surprised and sorry there are so many of them.
made me think about a similar memory today
and I should think about this person more
merci
"Please check out our services and rates in our HELP section. Note our prices have increased effective September 1st to $75 for a basic job and $200 for a featured job."
What do you think this man is advertising?
He's advertising porkchop-flavoured printer paper by the ream. That's the basic job. The featured job means that he will have sex with you on a palette of porkchop-flavoured printing paper.
My first best friend was named Robert but we called him Robby. He was schizophrenic. He killed himself when he was 22 and left a note to me.
Post a Comment