In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

44 CIty Of Candy-COlOred lIGht Hope makes us strange and hope makes us kin. By the nose into negative red, we go, four bodies rich with mosquitoes and poison oak, sleep unslept staining our sockets and mouths. We follow the queen into this corpus of gin and dice exploded against felt. Collect the clubs and diamonds, acquire a vigilance for triple cherries after midnight. We sit down and learn. On the left Mutton Chops battles Lucky Strike. Prom Queen, equipped with fanny pack and Chivas neat, is a Jedi with her cards. Her spine, sore from honest work, is a regal collapsing thing. And while the chips raise their towers of possibility, she will count the dollars, make preparations for the long ride home with a radio between stations. One hour outside city limits radio waves thin to salt flats and starlight. We’re headed that way. We’ve been where night grows its miles, where the sky kneels down and the horizon flares all directions. We like the sound of it. The quiet that closes around us, the music that swallows us whole. ...

Share