Depression makes my skin ache. It’s
nine o’clock and I dip into a jacked-up
bar in the gulch, half a chin tucked into
my sweater.
It’s a grizzly-bear nation. These dunder-
heads threw in a kidney stone; two hour
flashbacks to a party of eight. Once home,
I read a love poem to the sofa.
It swoons. Lots of people chopped off their
thumbs. David left while growing striped
pants. The penguins are in the mail to
Kevin (flash-forward required).
The glass of water infected with ice.
European stains on the carpet.
