Thousand: Three Hundred Fifty-Five

easy in comparison. Just kidding. It’s especially icky if they’ve been dead awhile. Though in some places the dead are kept prettier than the living. They think they are entitled to revival. Who isn’t? Don’t we all get tortured to death before our time? Sacrifice to rapacious mortality. I suppose a few linger, being uninteresting all their days, stretching it out. But when with quaking spotted hands they turn back the pages of their vast book, what is scrawled there? “Sun with variable clouds like yesterday.” “Sun with variable clouds like tomorrow.” You know so much about tomorrow by that