Come alittle bit closer please…. Yes Yes, just a few more steps is all. Just so
that i can see you a bit more clearly.
Yes Yes, that’s good. Just to there. There you see? There is where i am able
to best preserve. Where i am able to best rebirth color, vibration, and all
other various textures of my senses.
May i ask you your name?… Yes! I know that name! Its rudimentary purpose
anyhow. Though there must be something of my youth; Or my general being,
that’s letting something get lost in its designed translation.
Can you come just a little bit closer please?… Just to here? Yes Yes, just to
here. Just within the burdensome shadows of my selfishness.
Have you been standing there long, listening to me trying to justify my own
gilt?… My Poetry?… My tragedy? My self-pity seems to have no limits, nor
decency, i’m afraid.
Let me first start off by apologizing to you for conjuring you up again like
this; But you see…… No, never mind. That is for another time in another place.
… It’s just that i have been reading this book of poetry: The Collected Poems
Of VLADIMIR NABOKOV…. Yes Yes, you were always very understanding of
in securities concerning my awkwardnesses.
But in this book of poetry there is this poem: Evening On A Vacant Lot. And
while reading this poem i was shaken by a (yours) Deaths face!
May i read some of this poem to you?
“Across the vacant lot in darkening dust
I glimpse a slender hound with snow-white coat.
lost, i presume. but in the distance sounds
insistently and tenderly a whistling.
And in the twilight toward me a man
comes, calls. I recognize
your energetic stride. You haven’t
changed much since you died.” … THERE! DO YOU SEE! There is where your
(Deaths) face rattled me!…
You, who has lost your life…. And me who is looking for its PITY!

I still remember…, Or at least, I can still re-imagine your stride. Your mischievous
grin. Yourrrr… No! let’s not go there.
For once in my life, let it not be about me!

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