States

Apropos of nothing, a wine-colored rug.

Toys everywhere. A book about spiders.

Gunn-Truscinski Duo / Bay Head. Key track: Seagull for Chuck Berry.

Outside, garbage trucks and men yelling.

Unexplained helicopters overhead.

Betty said she saw a purple school bus. There was no purple school bus. There is no purple school bus.

The title of this story is Peru Percy Pintado Goes Down The Wrong Pipe.

It looks like rain. It will not rain.

To the authors of the esteemed pamphlet, “Freshwater Fishes of Illinois,” doesn’t “Freshwater” go without saying?

The only thing we have to (take seriously) is (seriousness) itself.

Every morning a new branch has fallen.

Paint the door black, apropos of much.

I should go outside but I’m tired of walking through spider webs, tired of feeling you crawl on me, tired of your eight eyes. Aren’t you tired yet?

I can pick up the toys but you will still be out there. Well, at least until winter. And winter is coming. Oh, winter is coming.

It is coming to Chicago and to purple buses and wine-colored rugs and the freshwater fishes of Illinois.

Winter will turn you blue. Or maybe you’re just choking.