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  • His lover left. Then
    he lost his job. The
    bank sent a notice
    of default. His house.
    Foreclosed.

    He sent out resumes.
    For a year. No calls
    ever returned. His
    savings dwindled.

    One day. He walked
    into the woods. Up the
    hillside. Into a forest.
    A rope. Tight. Against
    the neck.

    A jogger. Found him.
    Dangling. From a tree.
    In his farewell. He
    wrote:

    Everything I touch
    turns to shit.


    They bailed out the banks.
    But they forgot about him.





    (photo courtesy of Shane Convery)
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