#mellow pages library
Sure, at first you were concerned and probably a little enamored by her. Nympho the cat was an ugly little shit but she got you good, and real quick too. She’d be waiting out back near the empty kegs just mewling like a billy goat. Soon you started bringing her nips of meat and cheese from the fryer, all her brown eyes begging. The little slut. Then you were smuggling cans of cat food in and out of work, full then empty, getting the wiry thing all fattened up. It was all you could do to leave at the end of your shift. Then one night you came out and there they were: about ten raccoons staring you down, waiting for the feed. Green glowing eyes. You told me later, you said, “It scared the shit out of me. But then I looked and right there in the middle of’m was her.” Nympho the cat.
FRAGMENTVM “Heavy Woods”
Cum illam curares et ex animo scilicet amares, Nympho illa feles, turpis merdula, te callida subito fraudavit, quae sicut caper maumans ad cupas post tabernam manebat. Mox frusta carnem caseumque e foco illi, Nymphoni isti lupae, ocellis fuscis semper precantibus praebebas, tum vascula cibo plena furtim portabas totiens devorata ut macram saginares, quae paene interdixit ne extrema luce abires, tunc quadam nocte egressus eos conspexisti qui circiter decim turpes mures cibum cupientes te oculis minacibus prasinisque intuiti sunt. Posterius mihi dicebas hos te perterruisse. “Tum vero inter hos,” inquis, “illam conspexi.” Nympho illa feles.
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Although you took care of her and loved her out of your spirit, Nympho the cat, the little shit, she deceived you shrewdly all of a sudden, who, meowing like a goat, was waiting for you near the barrels behind the shop. Soon you were offering meat and cheese from the hearth to her in vain, Nympho the slut, with her dark little eyes always begging, then you were carrying sneakily little cans full of food having been devoured so many times that you fattened the lean cat, who all but forbid you from leaving with the last light, and then having left on a certain night you saw them, around ten dirty mice who, desiring food, observed you with menacing green eyes. Later you were telling me that they terrified you. “But then,” you said, “among them, I saw her.” Nympho the cat.
Even kids know there are ends to each duration. Days are simple enough. At the very edges, you could count by the measures of awake and asleep. But for you and me, we were working on a different edge then that had one final segment. I hadn’t thought that it would be marked by the white and green ferry. Right then, hearing you, I knew once we got off the boat, our day would be over. We would be over. If the point of the day had been to prolong the moment, our missing the ferry only increased the time we had together, however small in retrospect. This was our time. Start on one side. End on the other. Here we were, together preparing for the end. “Yeah sure. Whatever,” I said. I wanted there to be something to hold in my memory from all this even if it meant some dumb little snap back on my part. But it could have been anything: a shell from the beach, a kiss. Whatever.
FRAGMENTVM “Blue Is a Cold Number #1”
Liberi quidem sciunt cuique spatio, ut scilicet ita diebus, esse fines, nam dormiturus potest quando ac quantum sit somnum metari. Nobis tamen una pars ante finem manebat cum in alba viridique nave trans flumen navigavimus ignari dum te audita intellego finem nave relicta esse venturum. Obvii finem ibamus. Si iter ad tempus trahendum faceremus, prima nave amissa tempus plus trahebatur, quam minime, ut nunc opinor, tale enim erat nostrum tempus: proximo fine excesso ulteriorem mox transgrediamur. Disiuncti esse parabamus; “Sic,” inquam, “Si libet.” Stultus volebam aliquid leve memoriae comprehendere, quid sit nihil refert, utrum concha litore an basium. Si libet.
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Even children know that for each space there are borders, as likewise, of course, there are for days, like the man about to fall asleep is able to measure when and how much sleep there is. But for us, one part remained before the boundary when we sailed across the river in a white and green boat, unknowingly until, having heard you, I understood that the end would come when we left the boat. We were on the way to meet the end. If we had made the trip to drag out the time, time was being dragged out more when we missed the first boat, however little, as I think now, for our time was such: leaving the last border, we cross soon into the next. We were preparing to be separated; “Yes,” I said, “If it pleases.” I wanted foolishly any trifling thing to stick to memory, what it was didn’t matter, whether a shell from the beach or a kiss. If it pleases.
Sure, at first you were concerned and probably a little enamored by her. Nympho the cat was an ugly little shit but she got you good, and real quick too. She’d be waiting out back near the empty kegs just mewling like a billy goat. Soon you started bringing her nips of meat and cheese from the fryer, all her brown eyes begging. The little slut. Then you were smuggling cans of cat food in and out of work, full then empty, getting the wiry thing all fattened up. It was all you could do to leave at the end of your shift. Then one night you came out and there they were: about ten raccoons staring you down, waiting for the feed. Green glowing eyes. You told me later, you said, “It scared the shit out of me. But then I looked and right there in the middle of’m was her.” Nympho the cat.
FRAGMENTVM “Heavy Woods”
Cum illam curares et ex animo scilicet amares, Nympho illa feles, turpis merdula, te callida subito fraudavit, quae sicut caper maumans ad cupas post tabernam manebat. Mox frusta carnem caseumque e foco illi, Nymphoni isti lupae, ocellis fuscis semper precantibus praebebas, tum vascula cibo plena furtim portabas totiens devorata ut macram saginares, quae paene interdixit ne extrema luce abires, tunc quadam nocte egressus eos conspexisti qui circiter decim turpes mures cibum cupientes te oculis minacibus prasinisque intuiti sunt. Posterius mihi dicebas hos te perterruisse. “Tum vero inter hos,” inquis, “illam conspexi.” Nympho illa feles.
Although you took care of her and loved her out of your spirit, Nympho the cat, the little shit, she deceived you shrewdly all of a sudden, who, meowing like a goat, was waiting for you near the barrels behind the shop. Soon you were offering meat and cheese from the hearth to her in vain, Nympho the slut, with her dark little eyes always begging, then you were carrying sneakily little cans full of food having been devoured so many times that you fattened the lean cat, who all but forbid you from leaving with the last light, and then having left on a certain night you saw them, around ten dirty mice who, desiring food, observed you with menacing green eyes. Later you were telling me that they terrified you. “But then,” you said, “among them, I saw her.” Nympho the cat.
