As I stood on the edge of the parapet, surveying the friséed landscape with scalloped clouds skidding overhead towards the blood-red church steeple reflecting the setting sun, I was aware of the soft yammering piledriver in the distance reiterating the curse he had spit at me upon leaving: “Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!…”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.