The drive home is a rabies shot, agitated,you twitch from state line to county lineto places in between,the coordinates slipstream daydreams —You remember the road numbers:145th, 194thimpossibly lengthy, made of pulverizedbonemeal and crunch coat,those steel-cut graveled byways You remember the inhabitantsrendered from bacon fat and ham hocktourniquets and night shift salt licksOr those pubertied boys…
Rice Paper 