Pool_2

I know this happened, but I can't see her face. I have no idea. Who else bore this pall? I can't see them either. I can't see any of their faces.

Fire also suffocates. But does it illuminate? A pretty girl, freshman, I think. I remember that I could have easily loved her. She was beautiful, aglow in the ruby radiance of carbon monoxide, and yet, so utterly dead. Imagine her prayers, choked in smoke within a closet, sucked of air, by fire spawned in a tree at Christmas. Intact in physical form, attended by a family, destroyed. Death gently cradled her within its empty sleeves of decorum. Yet I can't see her face. Was she fair? Was her hair long or short, brunet or auburn? I don't know. Her father. Totally broken. Was he ruddy or pale, full or gaunt?

I can't see any of it from here. A young girl's beautiful face? Just memory that such a face existed - and a father grieving. Its all gone, gone to me. Somehow I know it, but, I can't see it.

A motorcycle gang. Their leader, a menacing giant, shot in the groin, had my name, my full name, exactly. Burly, I'm thinking, wore leather, most likely. What DID he look like? Must have had a beard. Or those chains that hang from their belts? Don't you think? The fact is, I don't remember. I do recall Rocky saying that it was a treat to meet my father. I remember laughing at that. The joke, that's it. That's what I remember. The rest is reconstruction.

You would think our ambulance driver's face would be etched in this brain. God,