"but your eyes have grown so old, and they say they want your legs. my father climbed the tree and it came out by the roots. he balanced a bit of meat on your nose and told you to stay, but you just laid down and closed your eyes"
"you hide at night, reading lights, television, headphones, there under the covers do you ever think of FUTURE? my now is here, and there is no more"
the crinkles in his nose seem to overrun one another, his face receding to point between. he slowly, slowly, rises and you hear the engine starting. you pull the covers back over your head and sob in the dark