Literature
11/05/13
iv.
i am still ruled by compulsions of odds. as i near the end of my first round, i know that if i keep going, i have to complete a circuit of three. the uncorked wine in my living room pops into my mind, a fully-formed landscape of comfort and warmth, and i compel my ipod to make the decision for me: if the next song that comes up on shuffle is appropriate for stalking the streets at night, i will continue. it isn't. i reflexively hit next, and this one is. i keep walking. there was a time when i made these decisions myself and walked in silence, but i can't remember it.
iii.
tiny pieces of stone shine like remnants of car crashes and vanda