Many surgeries since now and boyhood, good surgeries, and I can tell you the distance of that dog more accurately than radar. I can also tell you that it’s coming nearer.
Time to move.
I leave the gym, wandering away, the memories fading like dreams. The parking lot, the chrome, the artistry. If man makes it to the stars en masse, I hope he will go in style. Something feels right about these useless decorations, a longing I can’t explain to my utilitarian masters.
A convertible, red, top down; the key hardly hurts breaking through my flesh. The engine roars.
Tale Told 