I am not bragging,
but the self-thrashing
exercise
which I still find
the easiest
is
staggering west
beneath sun around
noon, because
no one
around me is
likely to notice
how huge
and how ponderous
the burden of sin
I've always been
dragging behind me
has grown since
the last time I
managed to
run across my own grinning
skinny black
corpse in the
road—but ignore him.
