Start out with a little Chongg Ran. Black and white simultaneously, not grey. There. Television snow. I see it as spackled asbestos tiles. I put my little shoes on the screen and feel I'm walking around Howard's, looking to buy a plastic boat, maybe a peddler's wagon. These shoes aren't the ones I wanted. I wanted the Nike's with the waffle soles. My dad rationalized them away by saying they would track mud. I think it was a money thing. They're fine, it's fine. These shoes keep my feet on my bike pedals. My Flash bike has solid tires. Fucking solid tires. It's a real dog to ride. Rationalized away as never going flat. But the wheels still busted. I headed towards McDonald's and went straight off the bluff. Fuck. That hurt. Still here? Check. I'm intact. No scratches, lost some paint from my arm. I'm cool. Enough of all that.
Look, out there! It's there, do you see it? I think I do.
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