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what can't I do
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Like this one time I just decided to get out of the car. I wasn't sure where I was, but I knew he was driving it someplace I didn't want to go. So, I just wait til we were at the next stop light and quickly pushed open the heavy, creaking door of that 67 Rambler and stepped into the cool night air. It was the-


first time I ever really saw that town, even though I'd been there a dozen times or so with them looking for that asshole Jimmy. Jimmy this Jimmy that that man is the devil and I know it. So that piece of shit Rambler I don't care how cool it looked the thing is a piece of shit peeled off like I was supposed to feel left but I didn't. I just kept walking easy like I knew where I was going and I did - right past that mailbox with the beaver on it down across the river until


mailboxes and driveways transitioned to guard shacks and ten-foot-tall chainlink fences. The first big trucks were pulling in to drop off tanker loads of evil vitriol and the drivers stared at me; so obviously out of place on the shoulder of the road as they groaned by close real close. Not a bum or a lost crackhead...just somebody out of place, hypnotized by the patterns of fireflies winking green phosperescence against the night sky as if tracing out a map to

point me further from where I thought I was going. An airhorn blew once, like a tenor sax, and brakes squealed. And I kept going, till the light was all behind me and just glowed on the leaves. No cars passed me. Eventually I could hear insects.

hard truth

"I just don't feel it for you," pushing ink black hair away from her moony face and then. You know the rest. We all went inside and drank and drank and then the women. It was all they could do to keep from smacking us. My pockets, hands in them, whatsoever you think you have suffered this is. Worse.
The other one took me to the river and held me close. I never knew a body like that, all in on itself, past and present, flush bite let go.
"Remember me," her hand to my chest and like every other time

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