To Kill Time

        I live in a place where shadows come out when the sun goes down, and they don't come out to play.

        Moon shadows from the apartment building across the street fall onto my store. The apartment building is a bloated variation of a French Quarter crematorium, a smog-smudged slab of rock packed tight with cockroaches, people, and televsions, with barely enough spare breathing space left over for those who stop by to kill time by visiting the newly wed and the nearly dead.

Gustav Hasford

A Gypsy Good Time
1992

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Leslie Peterson

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