It is held by a farmer in Australia. Mother saved the pot roast bone just for me. She spread the salted marrow on a slice of bread, then watched as I ate it, glad the secret lives on. I see the bald-headed man wants Michael, too. He pays a dollar as well to feel the smooth slide of Michael's thigh, the electric paper of his skin.
Words reside in memory like clouds or stones.
I know you love me, so, I will never see you again. These were his words, his and his alone.