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History of Towns: The Men (an excerpt)

September 27, 2009

The following is an excerpt from a short story I wrote called:

History of Towns: The Men.

Under empty skies they rode their beat up bikes and pillaged the towns they’d lost to on Sunday morning’s soccer game. When the night was long and life was young, they sat under bridges, sleeping at noon freebasing gum with a bible in hand, growing beards as the seasons changed. The sand in their eyes and time. They were running from wives and devils looking for the sun, feeding a dream with seaweed and fish. They lived and died in the third town and they were old.

The men of the twelfth town would paint. They painted hands and hands, building houses with brushes, and boats with trees. They drank and cursed, and while bloated or swollen would walk down to the river to curse at the dogs. Eating iguanas as the tide went up, standing by the rocks. They remembered being young and playing with shells, staring at the sun wondering why they never had bikes. They were older now and they had trucks.

In the sixth town they drank and played drunken soccer in the street, shooting cats when they were in heat. They would beat the men of the third town and yell at their faces. Every Wednesday they met at the square and walked to the Holy Mountain, to sodomize, their wives sleeping and their children dreaming in the quiet town below. Nobody ever said a word. While drunk they would piss on the church and sleep on the beach. It was theirs, it was theirs.  Then they sat and rotted in hammocks, telling stories to the dogs until they became the wind.

In the ninth town there were no men. They all died when the cholera broke out. And all the women did was cry.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. September 27, 2009 7:32 pm

    te quejas de que cambie el theme, para coger el que escoja, que te robo las fotos para robarte las mías.

    PMS.

    todos somos ladrones, todos somos hermanos. ta ueno el bloggi.

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