I’ve been working undercover
for years now,
only Intuition and Conscience knew.
After all, I’d never earned such a favorable reaction for any of my serious work. Maybe I needed to take myself less seriously. Maybe, sometimes, we all do.
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It's the catalyst for a long career, the book I clearly needed to read right then. Call it kismet, luck, coincidence. I call it a gift.
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Like the alchemists of old searching
for the secret of turning base metal to gold
and the source of the fountain of youth,
![[he was not an easy man/my father], by Ivan de Monbrison](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/59aef3bacd39c38dabcb0dc2/1742351323092-0HP3VV83HD497AX6L0LC/20241228_100908.jpg)
So we trace our fingers along the baseboards until we reach the same corner of a room. We pack ourselves into each other, and then, through a trick of pulling very hard on all the places where we join, we vanish.
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after the drone bomb
stuck between concrete rubbles
a mother and child
“Um. This is Benson Hughes, at 1212 Sunday Drive. I need to report that I’ve murdered my wife. Please send the police.”
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