by Howie Good
My Spiral Galaxy
I’m searching for a woman who likes to laugh during sex, but her address keeps changing. By the time I head back toward home, more and more people are refusing to use a dictionary. Living things erupt from the ground. It was Mencken, I think, who described God as the night watchman at a zoo. A man peering through the fence seems to be debating whether to go in or not. I see red, blue, and purple flame. The notion that we’re made of material left from the Big Bang is just the kind of complication that we professors adore.
The Best Advice
Nothing matters if nothing connects. The torn gum wrappers are one small hint; elderly tourists covered in cameras, another. I used to love the dark or just after, when there was no fundamental difference between stopping and quitting and what may really only have been planets looked like stars. I believed at the time that everything was interesting. It’s why I always carried around so much shit in my pockets. The best advice is to avoid lingering. Even things like a computer can be a horrible ghost, something only for people who wake up automatically and feel refreshed.