Not Hannibal
Harry Calhoun Harry Calhoun
The bulbs in the light fixture directly across from the skylight at the top of the staircase have died. I seem to hear them cooing to me in the soft, sudden darkness, luring me into a suicide pact: Change us, change us. I‘m wise to you, bulbs, afraid of heights and clumsy, too. No ladder precarious on the upper landing with me leaning out. Sure, somebody once installed and replaced these bulbs. And Hannibal, they tell me once crossed the snowy Alps
―Hannibal‘s Bright Idea‖ By K. R. Copeland, 2010
with his magnificent elephants.