There is the space: fill it with rusting machines as a symbol of my unused aptitudes. He has gone without a word, and I had lots to spare, believe me. Between you and me, he made an exhibit of himself, decked with all those flowers. The coffin was also a bit showy; fuschia satin is so déclassé. The elegies ran out as soon as they had drunk all the champagne and used up the grammar available. They were pretty good sprinters, but not marathon material. I didn't have the heart to tell them so. The lemon custard that was left over could have been poured over the decomposition in a sentimental and sympathetic manner.
©2004 F.J. Bergmann
"Dark Empathy" appeared on blackbox 2006 Winter Collisions.
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