this death you purchased is cheap. Another
instance of your incorrigible parsimony.
Once again you've escaped without
settling your accounts; now we're stuck
wi th the bill. Well, not exactly. You paid
plenty-if pain can be counted currency.
Generosity was never your strong suit.
Avarice another way of holding back on life.
Even your handshake was stingy: a mere
two fingers offered rel uctantly, then quickly
withdrawn. Never a full, lingering hand's
worth. Something furtive in that gesture,
like sneaking friendship against the rules.
The covert reach for tobacco, the nervous,
hurried tamping of your pipe. Uncomfortable
pleasure, futile nicotine to dissipate
ennui.
Imperious One, Heavy Wit, your last joke
was no fun. This august death, oh Caesar, the final pun.
You sent us off on
jerie,
confident that the
Strega
prize
had distracted you from death. But the winning
made you stronger. Useless now the refined style of
restraint, the flat dry cool of prose. Suddenly literal,
the longed-for gun come home at last to greet your temple.
Irony resolved. Ellipses closed. Oh Caesar.
Cesare.
August life, august death. Selfish
stronzo.
Cretinous egotist. Pathetic, cherished ass.
As ever,
Natalia
VIRGIL
Fourth Eclogue
Sicilian Muses, sing a nobler music,
For orchard trees and humble tamarisks
Do not please everyone; so may your song
Be of a forest worthy of a consul.
