Usually when people don’t know they’re dead, it means one of two things. Count backward from ten. You’re getting sleepy. When we lose faith, we don’t believe in nothing, we believe in anything. You have to think outside the box, etc., like a pony, but you also have to ignore the entire history of Europe, because it’s, like, so flammable, and it doesn’t work. That’s what you think standing next to the Danish consulate on 195th Street, as if you’ve just realized it’s impossible to turn a wolf into a dog. Look in a mirror. Repeat after me if you want to understand, like, what it’s like: gotta love a horse gotta love a horse gotta love a horse! . . . and so forth. I’m going to tell you every single thing that’s ever happened to me. After I count to ten, you won’t remember anything I’ve said. [End Page 59]
Jason Bredle lives in Chicago. He is a recipient of a grant from the Illinois Arts Council. His fourth book, Carnival, was selected as an Editor’s Choice for the Akron Series in Poetry and published in September 2012.