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The Book of Emptiness Has No Words and Chapters but One
The camels were parked in the moonlight, ready for whatever. Janice and
I were mostly naked by the smoldering fire, though, as I unscrewed the
bolts that held my face intact, she stopped me. No need to ruin things
yet, she whispered and we sat in a silence so large I thought we were
dead. Janice slept while I flicked the light on and off in the
bomb-shelter of my chest. The world was probably a piece of roseate
meat, stuck on a stick, held over a fire. The moon looked fatherless, as
it always did. Yesterday flapped away through a barely visible crack. I
looked at Janice whose countenance had turned android-like and knew it
was time to push on. I picked up the Book of Emptiness and strapped it
to my back, again. The next page was empty, same as the last.
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