The wise advice is this: don’t look up — My heartburn is like the Arctic Ocean — it numbs my gaze from the gravel beach. Across the water is a rock covered with birds, stained like snowfall, a sanctuary of spawn, shattered eggshells that lip the surf, settle on the bottom to build more limestone. This breaking age —…

On this rural road, a taco truck waits — It was America’s playground until the motels were blown away by Airbnbs, barns left to lean on their age like old elephants shuffling well-worn paths in search of fresh water and a place to lick salt. On this rural road, a taco truck waits among the fast-food options. Pickup trucks…

We traded wax for kisses, put our lips upon it — What is the mind of a man who scratches his name on a letter? To start something. To end something. To buy or make or cast off. To sincerely end with best wishes. We traded wax for kisses, put our lips upon it. Every note to the girlfriend, the banker…

A shell will flatten a playground — — a man drives a tank over the playground fence of an apartment complex. A man pulls the lever of a slot machine, a man removes a blood pressure cuff, from the arm of his daughter — wipes the sweat from her brow. …