But this doesn’t feel right, does it? You seem to be getting uncomfortable. It’s probably best to turn away before Whoever-He-Is wakes up and there is talk of cheekbones, like in a three-dollar paperback – with Fabio on the cover – that twelve year old girls try to smuggle out of the drugstore before their mothers see.

He checked his front to see if indeed any of the blood had leaked out. So much had leaked out already. His hopes, his happiness, his heart, his sweat, his tequila, his love—all seeped out and spread out onto the beach, only to be stolen by the ocean.

“jazz history of a / different sort, / studied / at close quarters” / the microscope / turned on “the biggest, / most intense, brutal and / complicated game in the/ world”

After dropping off Chloe, I drove around and around and eventually stopped at IHOP… I arrange the sugar packets so they all face the same direction. I open a cup of cream and drink it—it’s thick and sticks to my throat. Soon the sugar packets make me anxious, and I mess them up again. Chaos feels better.

Trinity Crater / the glowing center / I want to dig at / if only there weren’t / so many damn rocks / in the way. If only / the surface weren’t / already broken glass.

There rose a grace upon the sea
With horns and dragon-tail that spun
Dark rainbows in her cauldron

Beside him, a shovel that a child’s abandoned stands crooked in the sand; and he feels nothing, nothing for the reams of stories that won’t sell, nothing for Emily. He sits amid millions of pebbles, tossed and pushed and pressed and buried as others step all over them.

Unsure as to why he’s unbuttoned his coat, untied his shoes, and thrown their laces to the ground, he begins singing “You Are My Sunshine” at the top of his lungs.