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+---
+title: epigraph
+subtitle: An epigraph
+genre: prose
+
+project:
+    title: Elegies for alternate selves
+    css: elegies
+    order: 1
+    next:
+      title: How to read this
+      link: howtoreadthis
+    prev:
+      title: Death's Trumpet
+      link: deathstrumpet
+...
+
+I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
+From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future
+beckoned and winked.  One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and
+another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and
+another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and
+Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and
+Attila and a pack of [other lovers][] and queer names and offbeat professions,
+and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these
+figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.  I saw myself sitting in
+the crotch of this fig tree, starving to [death][], just because I couldn't
+make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.  I wanted each and every one
+of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there,
+unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one,
+they plopped to the ground at my feet.
+
+[other lovers]: spittle.html
+[death]: deathstrumpet.html