Do they need chlorine?

“I’ll meet you through the doors of sleep,” she said.

After the accident I buried her eyes in the desert and headed out west. Seemed the logical thing to do.

You know California was all ocean? Anyone claiming to find a dinosaur bone in the Mojave valley is a goddamn liar.

I found their street front. The brethren were looking a little on the raggedy side, their habits didn’t quite cover their gills.

“Here,” I said, flipping the old almanac their way, “keep the change.”

Burnt motor oil and fish tacos smell surprisingly like grief.

I sat on the hood of my car and watched the sea seethe. Funny how the sun never runs away when you want it to.

I found a working girl watching me. She was a slight thing of pipe cleaners, red hair. Shy.

“I came out here to be in movies,” she tells the floor.

“Aren’t we all?” I ask.

Something like a shuggoth doesn’t leave a skeleton, only a bald, bare patch of oily space where it used to be. Damn nuisances. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live with ‘em.

For our first date, she took me all the way back.

“I kind of really wanted you to see this,” she says. Dimple in her cheek.

The universe explodes with a sound like “meh.”

I wake up and spit out seawater. My AC never kicked in. That was LA.

Her dad had his ashes scattered in ‘Nam by a pretty hooker. She made me promise not to divide her up so much that she could never come back together. The car did that for me, neatly.

Sometimes I wonder what I would be if I had finished twelfth grade.

Just for funsies, I smoke an entire pack of camels. Homeless dude dressed like a Santa pimp glares at my selfishness. A cop shows up and rattles the fence tines. Do I look homeless?

85 miles to Bodega bay, and my car transcends without me. I sit on my hood with her under my arm. Try to make her voice. “Hush.”

Around Thursday, I realize I haven’t slept in 78 hours. Depth perception goes. Coffee won’t do it anymore. Where is magnetic south?

A dream in the desert is like God touching my tongue. The whisperer shows me a rock where water lives. To stave off death, I cram peyote down my gullet for the trip. It barely makes a dent.

UCLA has their dig here. Some wag found what he called a tyrannic cephalopod. I know God is dead. But God leaves no fossil.

Some of her family walked with kinked necks. She had trouble closing her eyes. I loved her, for all that she was.

The world hasn’t made sense for approximately four days.

I get caught sneaking in under cover of afternoon. They rip her out from under my arm and let her escape into the desert air. My tears dried up somewhere around Texas.

I dream of water. There is a crater when I wake up. Some, somewhere, smiles for no particular reason.

I’m chapped. If there’s anything worth living for between here and a smoking wreck in New Jersey, speak now or forever hold your piece.

I wonder if heaven has a swimming pool.


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Filed under fiction, microfiction

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