Author:  Lewis Mundt
Viewed: 63 - Published at: 9 years ago

This morning, Ray Bradbury is dead and there is only soy milk at my coffee shop.
I do not know which to be more sad about, that my body and I are suddenly uncomfortable or that a man I have never met, far away, has stopped breathing.
My heartbeat will end one day. It is a miracle it's lasted this long, not because I have wished it otherwise, but because my car keeps overheating.
My car is huge compared to my heart.
A writing prompt, given to me on a bicycle ride last week:
"What is the most dangerous thing you've done lately, and why?"
I climbed the Pillsbury building, because I wanted to, because I could, or because I was bored, or because I know how, because I know that wearing dark blue at night makes you look like a cloud.
Ray Bradbury's heart is not beating anymore.
The Pillsbury building is so big compared to his heart

( Lewis Mundt )
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