M. T. Fallon

Elpenor, you say, Like you, I have accepted ill fate. Like you, I have watched my friends flee from me.
You screw open another bottle of the local wine and splash the barrows and take a drink. You lean close to the rocky grave, whisper.
Look, you say, I don't want to burden you with my troubles, Elpenor. But I've made some mistakes.
Cigarette smoke in the breeze, phlegm rattling in someone's throat. They queue up behind you to pay their respects. You try to remember what it is that you came here to say. You just need a few minutes, that's all.