chainsaws, cedar bark and woodchip on orthopedic chair rests. double dutch doors. summertime heat. wandering empty streets on friday and saturday nights. running through sherlock’s field; lost in a forest of cornstalks. saved, somehow, by the canadian flag at the husky. muscle cars running, racing to the edge of town, back again. those old stories are waiting for me.
i'm obsessed with shorts. short. stories.
