• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 10

Albert Camus, Killed by Tree

In his passenger seat I turn another page of ‘Crash’, as he ejaculates over himself, his left hand still firmly on my thigh, dropped down after he gave up dully cupping my breast, he hands me my money, I so old fashioned I know, and says thank you, and I blank him for in my mind I am with the He who pays me to sit in his passenger seat as he lets me get off as we hurtle into a tree

And it’s him in his little red fiat panda,
Picks me up from the beach, I in my black bikini still, oversized Metallica t-shirt over me, he asks if that’s for decency, I say, no it’s to stop the chill

That moment before charged with great electricity

He asks if I have a tissue, I reach into my handbag, a motorcycle helmet with an adjustable strap, I ask him why and he tangents onto allergies

As he pulls away I start reading my book and I say to him, ‘drive faster’, and he’s nervous, I can hear him sweat

I had made up that his messages were vaguely mysterious but he is the wrong guy

He ejaculates all over himself, doesn’t touch me once, as I pretend to watch him over the edges of my book

I get home and Julia says to me,
‘Did you know Albert Camus was killed by a tree?’


Albert Camus, Killed by Tree

Under torn out dusts of the moon I lay on my bed looking at pictures of Albert Camus as I open my legs and imagine that I too, am hurtling with you, Camus, right into that tree.