One Dies Each Time One’s Name is Said

One dies each time one’s name is said. So one has two names, a real name & a hidden name, hidden even from oneself. People hide their hidden names all over the city. There are so many hidden names that one can find a name anywhere: under bricks & under bricklayers. One could wander the city upturning stones & debris, reading all the names, the named people becoming bodies & dropping dead to the street, but one would never know if one were reading one’s own name or the name of a loved one so one does not. After a heavy rainstorm names course through the streets, clogging the gutters. One must rush out when the rain dries & hide the hidden names anew. It is like the scent of silk in an empty room, like an abandonment of the terror the body projects & the bruises fade like bad water down a bad drain.