by Erik Thornquist
Get the actuary on the phone. He
(and it has to be a guy)
has every thing divided in that ‘one
for you, one for me’ style
which fails to account for a
different kind of error. Say the mill
goes bust. A kid sees the layoff
in his father’s eyes and
rides across town on a second
hand BMX that was last year’s
Christmas. In his hand a rock
as jagged a projectile to fit in a palm, and
while dad dozes under the air conditioning
and the actuary sums sums for the powerhouse
the boy calculates which gated home
offers a window and a getaway.
