The Old West
John Repp
The passion for solitude others in their generous moods called
eccentricity had paid off. Although he often seemed a star in his own
bad movie the clich‚ symptoms, the sudden crying jags, the
anonymous examination rooms and chirpy nurses and hang-in-there
doctors he felt grateful for the lack of immediate family, the vast
distances the few friends would have to travel if they knew. No
squishy reconciliations for him. No lush strings on the soundtrack,
either, the silence in his apartment broken only by his own raspy
monologues and wobbly dances across the living room and vacant,
nearly autistic strumming on the dulcimer a girlfriend had bought
from some geezer in West Virginia when he was so fervently
young he needed little persuasion to believe their soul-union too
precious to allow physical coupling to sully it. How could someone
so earnest and breathtaking possibly lie?
ISBN 1-882983-63-7
19 pages/$9