you see the clouds
as cream. ebullient mounds
of baby’s breath but

only see the crows cutting through.



Put on Sinatra, dammit.






10403201_853997264611364_1807297246460120246_nSchubas in Chicago August 21, 2014, photos by Hunter Armistead

Chicago was a right good scream. The drive (or ride, rather) went by quicker than I remembered. Schubas was real dark. I liked that. And the whole show felt like I was speeding towards a cliff or canyon or something. And all night the sound of steely insomniacs in packs roaming the world on wheels. I woke up in a heap on the floor clutching a pillow. A success, I suppose. 

We looked like a crime scene of sorts. Dead bodies adorning the room.  On the way home we stopped at the gas station. There was a soda machine where you could add flavors like cherry, vanilla and one more I don’t remember. I made a vanilla coke and wondered why they stopped making vanilla coke. Wasn’t missy in those commercials? I was next to 1,2 stepping by the end of it all.
Home. Safe.