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Untitled By Greg Gerke A man watching over his dying mother during a dreary Minneapolis winter turns on the TV shortly after she goes to sleep and inserts a VHS tape of pornography he brought from back East. It is exciting for a few minutes, the posturing of flesh, the inane innuendo, the sizeable penis inserted deep into the ass of a woman named Candy Clit.  Then, almost all at once, it devolves.  He could see the same thing in a PBS special on animals.  And in that case his mother could watch with him.  Then it hits him.  Years ago in their living room they did watch a program on tigers together and when the camera caught them mating she left the room.  He thinks she began to do a load of laundry.  He went to bed without a kiss.  It was the first time she died.  All the others he has missed. He gets up early the next morning with the noise of plows, snowblowers and shovels in the background. Soon, overshadowing this is the sound of his mother pissing in the toilet.  He looks in that direction and then away out to a world thick in fog and falling ice. He thinks hard. Then harder. He thinks he wants Candy Clit to keep gasping and sighing during her heightened orgasms.

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