erotic secret Death is such a systematic force in the world these days that it's hard to get involved much in your own death. It's just your tiny contribution to the general trend, a fate that will soon enough catch up with everyone. Milo however was obsessed with the idea of death, his death. He wanted to die beautifully, alone in a room filled with mirrors, naked, the pieces of his costume scattered around him, holding a flower in one hand, a bright trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth...suddenly, for no reason, but everything right. One night he was stretched on his mattress, light from the street falling across his skin. He smoothed the hairs below his navel with one finger as sleep rose to cover him. An engine roar came into being and racketed toward him, too fast. There was a long tire squeal, the inevitable crash and shatter. Milo was at the window: below him metal hissed and a body had been tossed into the street. In the sudden stillness, his body tingled and ached for death. He felt like he'd walked in on an erotic secret. He watched as they covered the corpse and took it away. "He was like me. Now his pain is over." He stayed at the window for a long time, watching where the wreckage had been.
	location: San Francisco date: November 1986 average rating: [not rated] your rating (0-10):