If I am repaired, can we meet again for the first time, in all of the places I have feared to go, and then, again, in all of the places I will have forgotten, if I am repaired?




SC




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Here is the desk drawer in which all of my odds and ends are kept, tidbits that would otherwise never see the light of day.











Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Short While Stopped


They put Charlie Paxton away today. In Daubers, the Psychiatric Facility. 
       Charlie used to work heavy machinery. They’ve been widening New Shackle Road for a while now. He was on board that project, operating a Komatsu excavator. 
       Charlie was backfilling a sewer box a couple weeks ago, about noon. There was this cop there. You know how it is. There’s always got to be a couple cops standing around construction zones, wearing yellow vests, doing nothing. I guess this cop had a thing for standing next to Charlie’s excavator.
        “You ever have a fly buzzing around the room while you’re trying to read,” Charlie told the Judge.
       The cop was checking texts when Charlie swung the Komastu’s bucket around and clipped him at the base of his skull. Of course it killed him instantly, but the force threw him out into the street where he was run over three times before traffic could get stopped.
        “Same thing,” Charlie told the Judge.
        



  
     


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