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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