when the barn in the moonlight shot them down as all around nowhere the twilight cried for clergymen so lethal was the road he spoke before your experiment was your experiment it was my joke you
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We were comp/rhet PhDs (the newer cohorts) and literature MAs (the lifers), plus a handful of nervous MFAs forever running two steps behind but making up for it with skillful mimicry and lucky ears for language.
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Gaffney is born in the middle of an armistice between his mother and sleeping pills. His mother, Leila, gasps and struggles in the hospital bed. Push, the doctor says
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The night I start being a dog for Mom, the two of us eat McDonald’s on the porch. Mom stares at the ceramic dog bowl near the sliding door, empty except for a copper ribbon of wandering ants.
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