It was true. In those moments however, when those men came with the full knowledge that we had not come close to anyone in the tournament, I wanted to play to win. Fuck fun, I wanted murder.
Hey dad, I think I drink too much.
A lunch with my Aunt in which I cannot clearly remember if I was intoxicated or not. I remember itching for a cigarette as soon as I wolfed down the turkey salad on rye.
The wall unit is buzzing. A pool has formed from the steady drip of water, soaking the mat on the back porch. The dogs are splayed on the linoleum inside.
The light in the hall has two switches, never pointing in the same direction. One is always up. One is always down.
The tall boy’s are sweating. The Black & Mild is sweet. Tears don’t come but I can feel them coming like coyotes trekking through the desert, chasing a mirage, feeling the ache of relief but never reaching it.