rope to hang myself with. He slipped
the woven fiber around my neck. I saw
it as a polished necklace. Every time I moved
closer it went from a strand of pearls to

a choker. He lifted me off my feet. I didn't
touch the ground. I swung from a
breeze. Every time I took a breath I grew
closer to my death. He sat back to view

the show, with a seat in the front
row. Munched on buttered popcorn and
drank cola. My head, spinning like drunk on
gin and soda. I screamed out at the last

second. But my screams didn't beckon
him to move. His lines became warper as
I slipped into torpor, till I'm dust in the air. And I'd
cling to his head if he had him some hair.