​​Somehow it seems like almost every night now most everyone disappears someplace:

Portland or Hanoi or the dark side of Uranus. And it stings, remembering how
all together we passed the yard where once we prodded in the debris what we shouldn’t have,

baby fat coagulate with hornet-welts, swooning and shrieking, face down on the lawn,
flesh patterned thicker and thicker by the moment, remembering that bad ideas

are always better than the worst ones. I already miss