CHAPEL OF THE SACRED MIRRORS

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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CHAPEL OF THE SACRED MIRRORS

        You live because something else dies.

        I stood outside the Chapel Street Arco AM/PM Mini Market Gas Station funneling down my two-for-$1.69 hot dogs drenched in mustard and cloaked in green relish and capped with sliced jalapeño peppers.  A tear of relish fell upon my coat, “Dammit,” and I raised it up with my fingertip and I ate it.

        It would have gone good with sips of Napoleon Brandy on a cold night like that one.  I already felt like Napoleon marching back from Moscow in defeat.

        Hong “Buddy” Gildong was my companion that night.  Short, stout, Korean.  I called Buddy “Buddha” for a joke.  He was always smiling.  I think it was congenital.

        I asked Buddha, “Did you know that ‘brandy’ is from a Dutch name meaning ‘burnt wine’.”

        Buddha said, “That’s why I prefer burnt juniper berries.”

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