What can YOU say in six sentences?
Ever since he quit smoking, he spends his breaktime at work flying a kite in the parking lot, a near-weightless construct of pastel nylon hovering on the least breeze, strung from the slimmest of tethers.
His lover lay down to sleep beside him and she never woke up. But Chuck keeps on rising, for her and for us.
When we were kids he was the older brother turning us on to the wicked jams: Sex Pistols and Talking Heads and Modern Lovers and Ed Sanders and Laurie Anderson.
The kids who found him passed out on the beach one year thought he was a pirate washed ashore after terrorizing steep seas.
The kite teases the sky itself and returns to earth trailing stories of how we look from up there.