the still passenger sits on a train, on the window seat, in the middle of a long car. these are the days when there were drive-in movie theaters dotted across the landscape. at dusk, the images on the screen appear off in the distance. the images presented here are those which are glimpsed, the ones that still her thoughts. the train rolls along. the landscape seems to move, but doesn't. the still passenger sits alone with her snapshots in her mind. she's filling in the spaces.
August 5, 2014
i misremembered cutting through a showgirl's metal bustier with a can-opener.
i'll take my memory neat. never a doubt. we had two children in the 30's. just the four of us.
