Written by Guy J Jackson on Sunday the 14th of February 2010
What it must be to have a night so muggy and the only blink come from some ancient video game stuck in the corner of a native shack where they have their little liquors that bring them to death all queer in understanding and minted with read-only eyes, or red-eyed that is to say.
LORD! So muggy this night, you can hardly think for the pleasure of it and a pitcher of lemonade. Why not stick our town at night behind ten long silk curtains and watch them hand idle while the wind rustles fabric and your head grows hot. You didn't ever see us more casual in kip and candor than that last locust train out of Candice. Our girl Candice is named after the town, and she idles like the curtains, party pretty in never sinking more firmly stated tones the eyes ready for killing grabbing stopping that roar of gotta do gotta go gotta gotta gotta just sit up here on the porch with the fireflies just sit down here in the garden with the nude statues and gargoyles and faces from Italian comedy and just sit up here in the high window with Joanna singing patiently and the town stretching right out into the clouds and when you look at the horizon with any certainty you think well never mind I'm already in a town in the clouds IE I'm already done and in heaven.