The Con
con. nobody seemed to
notice. this
continued for some time. the
economic impact was significant.
touching, isn’t it? i had
chosen the profession of
oncologist, in truth. but, to
coin a phrase, tumors
conked me out. they
knocked me into the
the cotton with the
raccoons, a
conch at my ear like a
scone gripped with
conviction into an
uncouth cup of
conciliatory tea. i,
noncommittally
nocturnal, would later be
uncovered in a
condo in the city of
Stockton (I’d never been), and
pronounced dead
(coincidence?) next to an
untouched tuna
nicoise salad.