Betting on the Four Horse
1 Minute Read Time
Having tumbled in the thorns & sobered. Having thumbed the
sourcebook for how we imagined the conditioned air, its maiden
voyage through the high windows. The film of old Victorian homes
succumbing along with the screens of the drive-in, all chopped at
their feet. Having stood in that debris & called it an interstate. The
pistons multiplied, pressing inside men until they prove any drink of
water will do. Woe to the day we streamed & never again
undressed like the trees. Having considered the avocado, soft like
a fontanel, & so instead I bought flowers, made arrangements, &
listened for the buzz. Having cared little for progress or anything.
The raccoons arriving by the cover of night, testing each finger &
claw in the fresh cement.
Read more from Issue 21.2.
