Anthony stepped into the path of the 37 Express. The driver, distracted, saw Anthony too late. It hurt less than expected. As Anthony’s body arched backwards, instead of having his life flash before his eyes, he saw a highlight reel of the worst movies ever. Before he could scream “that’s not fair,” his head hit the pavement and everything became pain and darkness.
When the light returned a crowd was gathered around him. He felt he should say something profound. So he said, “Something profound.” One woman laughed and took his picture. Satisfied, Anthony surrendered his spirit to the void.
Standing on the peak looking down at the fogged-over city. Headphones blasting. Patti Smith Pissing in the River. The holiest of the holy punk prayers. Feeling inadequate.