In the sky, the roadrunner became a roadrunner’s tail and drifting head.
The night air, rich with dark dry tinder, put on his lips the electric ghost kiss of Vivienne.
Andy walked back towards the Stovepipe settlement, where only the metal roofing shone in the moon a long way ahead like dots and dashes of tin Morse code.
Love is so short, and the forgetting so long. Brotherly love is so short, and there is no forgetting.
HE WOKE UP in a room with one bed.
He opened the door. The air was fresh and thin. The light was piney, under lacy pale green trees. There was a garden chair by his door: white rounded back, with thick arms, white-painted metal. He walked out on the dirt.
He was at a motel-style length of rooms. He looked at the numbers: 1 to 16. He was at room 15, the number 15 nail
