—I’M SO GIFTED AT FINDING WHAT I DON’T LIKE THE MOST

 

 

It’s another stroll/Monday/Sunday/next day in Heaven, clouds split like corn silk combed into two perfect rows. Moses is out there on his boat again, rowing aimlessly, expectant about a proper parting, sea or see, and I can’t remember shit. 

But I’m alive, man, and the sun’s posing for magazines, chest-forward, bulky and built, so how bad could today possibly be?

I’ll tell you tomorrow.