diet-coke

Is full of all the usual anxieties, changing hands and lanes and prices and into uniform. Our pedestrian rolls down a hill beside a highway, spinning glimpse and swooshing sound and galloping grass stain all merging into the traffic jam senses. Along this spin cycle he realises: His road-bitten bones recall an ancient cramp; for several moments he can but wish for his childhood home, homes, it grows less distinct as the cramp fades. It is replaced by a hot bruise blooming between his shoulders, the wish turns into wash as his mind becomes all sea. This continues to the bottom of the hill, where our man's eyes roll in panic as he accounts for

i receive emails from people wishing to protest the use of american airfields (in airstrip 1 of course), but this gesture of impotence appeals less so where it would jam up my return to the US. instead, i wish to use the golf course at one of these bases, where american soil has been shipped in. i wonder about dinging off the control tower, or throwing my club accidentally and thwacking a bird. in opposition to this physicality, the plot of unfenced americans i know is packing up, my home and the skies leading to it will be led away by turbines. i will not join this intake yet, i will keep breathing in the bleating horizons and the neversuns

hold the wheel