Two orange suns, taken at a mall of all places. Needless to say, an exit strategy was necessary and imminent. Two bright lights and some inconsequentials. In the back of a car I remember we started it going by reeling in these huge flows like manipulating an incredibly complicated invisible fishing pole. Unraveling web after web, our hands moving very fast and sure and automatic. We were touching the lines of energy that connected us to all things, but we could not see them yet.
The nobodies took us to a party at some house filled with older nobodies drinking beer. The two bright lights went to the backyard and took in some plants in a pipe made out of cigarette pack foil. There was a really high, really rickety treehouse with boards nailed to the tree for a ladder. Of course we ascended. It was peaceful up there. I remember looking down, and the ground was spinning, like a whirlpool. A great silent whirlpool of grass and dirt and twigs. We got down, we got out, we got home.
Back to the house and an Abraham Lincoln hat, lots of staring into a mirror, a lighter becoming a campfire, and slightly out of sync guitars. Always guitars. I remember dueling out in the dark with the lighted ends of our cigarettes, also looking at the ends close and seeing the faces of the tobacco screaming. There are faces everywhere, in everything. And all manner of gods walking the earth, their heads towering above the trees. I’ve seen them.
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