| Susan Gorgioski |
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| Complete Memoir I've known all my life that this day would come. The City Square is crowded, old ladies trample on their genteel breeding to get a better view. My spoon clatters against the chipped plate. The sounds part my hair. But I'm not ready to go. I don't have a blindfold, I haven't found a cause, and I haven't had my last cigarette. The cat howls, demands that I give her breakfast, and the washing machine hasn't ended its cycle. I'm not ready to go because I haven't finished writing. Childhood went quickly, a few chapters I imagined, cleaned up and glued together. The middle years were slim, just a few pages about ambitions that crashed and loves that burned themselves up before touching my skin. Soon they will knock on my door. |
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