tiny things, bursting. molecular studies of grapefruit, clandestine affairs awash in moonlight. you feel me good. i’m not what you used to think i was, i think…

albuquerque. in the glare of a new mexico sun, caballeros with itchy b*lls. red leather fringe suits santa well in the southwest; the old guy dons woolen muffs for venturing into maine or northern minnesota.

door to door vacuum salesman wearies of ringing yet another bell. hey. it’s five o’clock somewhere…