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44 2. Chronicle of Choices Times coming now to resuscitate genius or go sure and improvise among souvenirs of dislocation, or what’s left of buzzard’s luck, or failing that, wet any finger that beckons wind to articulate direction. Ah, that stillness of waiting, not yet of death— as only unlikely turns make perfect sense. You—amused by the randomness of weather—will cling to home brews, while a luminous snow cover serves as rationale for the resistance in this City of No Illusions, carefully situated ever next to nowhere, where being proud doesn’t matter anymore. ...

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