| I
was taking a bath with two beautiful ghosts in my grandmother's old house.
They were both Czech, at first invisible, but once they knew I knew they
were there, I could see. Still, when I tried taking a picture with my digital
camera, they didn't show up. Ghosts, definitely. Babi (my grandmother), kept
passing through with a knowing air, herself no
longer flesh. We smoked a cigarette and put it out in the water, set
it on the edge of the tub where the filter squirted--a practiced trick. They
felt good and it was getting pretty sexy. A Czech tape was playing on the
radio--"Go Home, Joe." It obviously had something to do with death and
restlessness. In the perfect Czech I speak only when drunk or in
dreams, I asked, "Why aren't you in heaven
or wherever that place is exactly one goes after they die?" They looked a
little sad that I had asked, and I woke up with a start, unsure where I was,
but certain that if I'd remained silent they would have taken
me. |
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