—IT’S HARD FOR YOU, I KNOW, TO ACT LIKE YOU’RE NOT GIVING UP

 

 

It’s the wrong time of day or night to be writing, listening to Don’t Send Me Away, syringe by the ready, and I’ve got a full tank of something, while the muffler smells like Schlitz and I’m remembering things no one should ever recall, and the snare and cadence are doing their crafty work, and it’s late enough to be morning somewhere, all of those broken halos glittering like a beer glass above the trees, spelling out code I can’t comprehend, the ragged lessons of my life.