This area closed, 9 to 6.
Ft. Roots smells great, like popcorn.
Where’s Matt Carey been these last months?
NASA can’t make me understand the moon.
Feeling machine, biking darkness, Grouper’s “Top of the Sea.”
Blackness, flickering lights, blackness.
All the girls I’ll never swim with in the cool Arkansas River.
It’ll be too cold already soon.
Hearing things in the woods alone.
Lights off. Pissing in the dark. Will that armadillo bite?
Spiders own everything still.
Foggy glasses for the first time.
Etched rumble strip growl.
Gaudy Rockwater Marina banners ruining a nice zombie apocalypse evacuation route.
Back down to 7 pathetic pullups.
Does every tall building have to have a name?
Grape gum smell on Broadway over the AR.
This phone makes them think I won’t jump. Not tonight.
I only have two fears.
The Old State House and what it means to me.