Anchors away and a parking spot across the street from some place called Mary Ellen’s. Fish bowls and fish and chips and the sound of a dozen dishes crashing. Check the phone and watch out for the internet because it’ll get you every time. Send that letter to Arizona. Beached whales and broken sawhorses and a million Indians displaced by white people hungry for free land and their very own chance at liberty. What unbelievable level of fucked up happened here in the 1800’s? What kind of lawlessness promoted the killing of human beings in the name of growth? It still happens. It happens today. Death in the name of progress. Sadly, today, our lawlessness is tied up in our laws and our monies and our government and our marketing. Our death is slow and agonizing and painful and isolated because our kids don’t have time and they put us in nursing homes because it’s easier than caring for our elderly selves. It’s bananas and bonkers and catchy words that used to mean something until time happened and the tattoos stopped and the timer went off and things were not respected. The boundaries. The fences. The happiness set aside for the joy. Round and round. Up and down. Inside out. Over and under and a lawnmower parked on blocks because the wheels stopped wheeling when the deck hit the rocks in the front yard. Rope tricks and horse wranglers and cowboys. Frightened. Strings of thought. Consciousness confused for conscientiousness. Corduroy jackets and a monkey on the pocket. Wear the hat. Wear all the hats. Stop. Be nice. Channel the energy into positivity and make somebody smile. Do it. Ask for nothing and get everything. I love you.