In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

48 To the Boy I Killed I remember your dreams of Eros and agape; they were mine. How you marveled at your shimmering body, strutted hallways naked under curls and emblazoned silk. You’d fill your gas tanks, turn your eyes into fabrications of storms and roar toward a banal destiny. You were meticulous in your appearance of ease. And some fell for it. My problem, kid, was I just didn’t like you. You bored me and that’s a sin. I had places to go alone, to sound below your range of hearing. That pay day, killing you was a sweet breeze; you went down vowing gibberish, but I saw gratitude in your sissy eyes. Who wants to lug that yoke of potential? I stood apart, feeling almost kind in my favor to you; then I picked up the bottle and the cash, consigned the alley to history, and went home. ...

Share