and force the senate to divinise this anonymous boy, and dot the empire with statues of this Bithynian and start a religion in Antinous's name.
Alas, I found no enjoyment in his delayed pain. Nor was his grief the mourning of a man, but the mere death baying of senseless beast. As my soul remained, pinned to my dead body, his soul had left his living body and followed his lover's somewhere—maybe Olympus. Somewhere beyond my reach.
And it was with cold, dreary detachment that he would write in his diary, "Antinous fell in the river and drowned."
I always think of that sentence, so unlike Adriano, as I see in my mind that last second when Antinous's hair opened and spread like a nocturnal flower blooming by the light of the moon on the waters of the Nile.
The moment I lost them both.
Dear John
I don't know if this happens to other writers, but I often dream I'm leafing through magazines that carry my stories. Normally, I just look at the magazine in the dream and say, "oh, yes, that's mine." In this dream I got smart and read it. It was Dear John. When I woke, I still found the idea that we would create human beings simply for our physical gratification interesting and repulsive in equal parts. So I had to write it.
The night was cool. A soft breeze blew from the ocean, bringing with it a taste of salt and a feel of humidity.
The humidity clung to my platinum blonde hair, making it sticky and messing the lustrous waves that took so long to arrange. Good thing the beauty mark on my face wasn't painted on; good thing my make up was permanent and couldn't blur.
I smiled, and walked back and forth along the cracked sidewalk. Smile, smile, wiggle of hips, smile, smile, I looked adoringly at the glide cars passing by, silently, their drivers hiding behind the safe anonymity of darkened windows.
Click, click, click, my high-heels beating a rhythmic, monotonous sound against the pavement. Click, click, click.
My ankles hurt, as did my feet, from their unnatural position.
Zoom, zoom, zoom, the cars gliding by, one after the other, all featureless ovoids in different colors, like someone had raided a giant Easter egg basket and sped each of the eggs out on the highway. Now and then, an egg stopped, the shell opened, and a John came out.
Just what every little girl wanted for Easter.
I've never seen an Easter basket.