John Hawkes - Travesty

What's that? What's that you say? Can I have heard you correctly? Imagined life is more exhilarating than remembered life …. Is that what you said? Imagined life is more exhilarating than remembered life. Can it be true?

But then you agree, you understand, you have submitted after all, Henri! And listen, even your wheezing has died away.

But now I must tell you, Henri, that if you reached your hand inside my jacket pocket nearest to you-an action I would not advise you to attempt despite a moment's gift of agreement-your fingers would discover there a scrap of paper on which, if removed from the pocket and held low to the lights of our dashboard, you would find in my own handwriting these two lines:

Somewhere there still must be Her face not seen, her voice not heard.

Do you recognize them? They are yours, naturally, and give us the true measure of your poetry. And I may say it now, Henri, I am extremely fond of these two lines. I might even have written them myself.

But look there. We have passed Tara. And we failed to note the lantern. And now it is gone.

Chantal …. Papa has not forgotten you, Chantal!

But now I make you this promise, Henri: there shall be no survivors. None.