Beneath a downtown bridge the bottle rolls into the Monongahela watched by two who having spent the day fishing shoot rats and cans with a 22.
There were three platoons. They drove from coast to coast working in kitchens, carnivals and shelters.
The van broke down. They met a man with money and jokes and food.
They fought over the bottle.
She said he had two kids somewhere. Maybe we should tell them he is dead.
Friday, September 3, 1:27 pm
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“How far my efforts agree with those of other philosophers I will not decide. Indeed what I have here written makes no claim to novelty in points of detail; and therefore I give no sources, because it is indifferent to me whether what I have thought has already been thought before me by another.”
- Ludwig Wittgenstein
Did you tell, Marcel
