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“Conspiracy” by James Tate 🇺🇸 (8 Dec 19438 Jul 2015)
I said, “Well, I certainly don’t know anything about any of this.” Mr. Black said, “Well, you’ve certainly landed in the middle of it.” I said, “I don’t even know what it is.” “It’s a conspiracy of like-minded sous to undermine the government,” he said. “Why would I care to be a part of something like that?” I said. “You would like to bring down our government,” he said. “I don’t think about our government one way or another,” I said. “Of course you do. Everybody thinks about our government one way or another,” he said. “But I don’t. I am completely oblivious to our government,” he said. “That’s not possible. You pay your taxes, don’t you? You follow certain laws. The government is always telling you what to do,” he said. “Yes, but I try to ignore it. I just do things my own way,” I said. “And your way happens to coincide with what the government is telling you?” he said. “I’ve never really thought about it, I guess so,” I said. “I don’t believe you. You are out to tear the whole thing down. I know your type,” he said. “I am not, I assure you. I don’t care one bit about the government,” I said. “See, that’s what I mean. Only somebody like yourself could have made these plans,” he said. “I’m not like anybody you have met before. I don’t care what you say. You’re not going to twist me into this thing,” I said. “You are already there. Everything you say points towards your guilt,” he said. “Then I’ll not say anything more,” I said. We sat there in our chairs for a long time until he finally fell asleep. Crickets were chirruping outside. I thought about the keys on his belt, then fell into my own deep sleep, where antelope jumped the fence each night and were caught captive by the farmer in the morning.