It is little what we have learned, but it is all of it.  And it comes out in what we can’t let go of in death.  No, David didn’t go to New Orleans, but he did after Benjy died.  So in the natural course of phenomena you see it backwards.  You read what’s now without having read the before first and an altered story becomes told.  Told long enough and it becomes a bad death.  Because everyone wants to see you go.  For different reasons.  Some personal some not.  Some selfish and some not.  And is this what you want to hold onto?  These opinions?  In the death of a father we become as a child.  In the death of a child we become as a father.  The time and place.  It’s all a cartoon which is why children like them.  In a cartoon a child doesn’t see dead people.  It is animated as it really is.  And you can go through your whole life without knowing this.  You even become confident.  David needed a woman to change, and it was Bethany that made him draw what he learned in the death of their firstborn.  What waited in the death of Benjy.  The opinions.  On the absurdity of a first cause what a child knows in the succession of the phenomena.  What is collected as a memory and how in death you don’t see backwards anymore.  You find it again.  Where the sound comes from ahead of the light…  No David didn’t go back to New Orleans when his father died.  His older brother William.  He returned home to remember what he was when he left.  How a child picks their favorite cartoon character and the story told around it.  Free of anxiety and good.  Without knowledge but before it.  Before too many erasures of pain.  And it was after.  After he lost his hearing in his right ear when David learned the language he translated as malice and jealousy and what  was now the perishable harm he thought would follow him since that day at a crossroads on Highway 61.  The successive phenomena matter formed from the reasons in his life what led to this and then that like the voices in a cartoon.  Read from a script and not improvised.  All the good stories and even the bad ones a way to cope.  A way to live with what little you’ve learned after learning all of it.  What they say after you’re gone what you never expected and owed just the same by the imperfect justice of your love.  And after dying and then dying again it can’t touch you.  You are impermeable in the movements of the drawing and all the colors come in a spectrum you can’t see but hear in the sound ahead of the light.  And your eyes become ears.  What you do what you hear…  So now I must go back.  I must read before to write to record the monstrous sympathy.  What David recorded in New Orleans after the drawings had already been made.  I must write the conversation.  David’s conversation with his mother on the death of his father and what she mourned in the death of William—superseded eleven years later and seven years after.  The divorce and the death.  How any man deals with being a man I suppose.  How a man is a son and a father.

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