The file will read as follows:
"Five foot Seven, Blonde Hair, Green Eyes. Writing in marker down left arm and both knees. Likely to be a string of numbers or times with corrosponding codes. Loves Parents. Secretly likes babies way more than is letting on. Consistently checking for lightening and rainbows. Hates a new word every day."
When they find my leg at the bottom of the river, they'll inspect the swelling and deterioration mutter under their breaths, "Loved to run fast after drinking." as their cigarette smoke drifts in to the chill of october.
When they find a finger near an empty wasps nest, the technician will pick it up between a pair of thongs and say "huh. Terribly nervous at parties with new people, but would never admit it." before dropping it into a ziploc bag.
When I'm barely 4 days gone, you'll find a strand of my hair on your pillow. As you're throwing it away you'll remember "Talks in her sleep. grinds teeth. Said she wanted a sandwich, but didn't. Not really."
The box of remainders is kept in a file cabinet under the stairs. The actual parts burned or buried, with only these remaining. Poorly healed broken rib. Can't remember names but can remember almost anything set to music. Will insist was not crying.
And, right. Didn't really want the sandwich.
you're not allowed to ever ever ever die.
and even if you do, it'll be when you're old and have no teeth to grind, and you probably won't be in pieces.
You were in one of my dreams last night: a bunch of us were over at your apartment, and I kept trying to hang your scooter helmet on the wall, but it wouldn't stay in place, which was making you very annoyed. Then you, me, Susanna Burney, Timmylops, Benlau and a couple of other people called SGNP up and sang "Happy Birthday" to him!
Posted by: THE COMTE at May 16, 2003 11:51 AMit's suspected, strongly, that you are the literate Chloe Sevig... however you spell that word.
Posted by: Ian Cleary at May 16, 2003 03:11 PM