On the wax museum tour of their marriage, every room sports its bullet hole or fist-sized gouge, while they, veterans of each other, arms
When I say winter I mean a cold sweat, I mean shaking so hard I can’t get my key in the lock and loving
—For Reid I believe it was a deer in the rain-silver road— like a taste of metal on the tongue or at the
Heading east out of San Francisco up into the Central Valley—hours of road, though it looked like nothing on the airline map. Surfing the