“Chocolate rocks
like dirt,” says
Overheard in
Latent’s wings.
“Eating a lesbian
pizza with Kirk
Douglas beats
poetry with Jello.”
That’s enough
chill to don a
jacket—the joy
of wearing jeans,
a loose sweater
full of lies. “Wy
oming?” I start
to crying. “We
have to talk,” he
says. “Bad
moon.” “Good
coffee.” “Take
care” by “sucking
guns w/Robert
Mitchum.”
