The Stages of Grief: A Guide

Kids snug in bed, you will meet him at the Chevron, your

dead lover. You have walked two miles in heeled boots

and darkness. You want to suffer. To feel, finally,

something. He is waiting at the wheel, smoking a joint.

A sweet smell shudders from the muffler on the long

black DeVille. The jerrican is thirsty for cheap unleaded.

A box in the back plays a twisted blue cover of the

Supremes' “Come See About Me.” You make off for

Sepulveda Pass, feel his heat, slide close on the red

leather seat. Skirball exit. Gas. Match. Breaking News