I dove into the longest delta I could find. I spilled into ancient waste and rowed to an incomplete kingdom of ends. Fatigued, with nothing to moor, it was only sensible to collapse in the marsh, down in the meandering lanes between reeds, into the saliva of the delta. All seemed bent on walkabouts through such outermost lengths, but still I fail to dissect the nature of this drift, apart from the desperation of it.
I spent the night in the backseat, curled up under this drop cloth like a blanket. It had gone from fifty-five down to twenty-five overnight and I woke up with no feeling in my toes. My nose was running. I got out and did jumping jacks. This was in the parking lot of the Cabela’s that had just went bankrupt. I warmed up in the gas station across the street.