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At the railhead Lilly saw him first, the binary motion of the stick,
among the stumbling shoals raused from the boxcars,
doling general death and fishing for his special interests--
twins, any anomaly; the hunchback father and clubfooted son--
unrhythmic metronome sending people to the left or right
onto different lines--death, life, death, death, death, death, death --
or with a jerk of the thumb, a flick of the finger in the white kid gloves . . .
humming opera, tall Lilly thought and handsome, in his monocle
not merely handsome, courtly in the way my aunt described him.
"Mengele Shitting" originally appeared in TriQuarterly, a publication of Northwestern University.