The Last List
It’s the apocalypse, and in its last death rattle, the illustrious Nassau Weekly decides to leave one more gift to humanity, to create the only remembrance of our time on earth, to cement an eternal legacy—to publish THE LAST LIST.
STAY FOR GRANDMA
In a dark kitchen, bread crumbs, ghosts, and gooseberries.
Monumento Mori
“Commemorating those who died in the American Civil War, and the consequences of a selective memory.”
White Noise
“I look at him. He doesn’t look at me. Just stares straight ahead. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and at first I’m afraid he’s not going to open them again.”
Snow Boots
“On my shelf above
They sit like something unearthed
From History”
Ten Cousins
“My cousins live fifteen
Minutes away. By foot.”
An Imaginary Collection
“I sometimes wonder, would you be able to reconstruct some image of me through the objects I’ve left behind? Would you know what I looked like? Smelled like? How I acted in public and in private?”
Lines from Love Notes or Breakup Texts
“You’re not the kind of guy people usually date.
I’m not the kinda person that people usually love.”