By the way, I’ve heard Texas is marvelous this time of year, a little windy. Can you guess what else is on mind? It’s the amount of space you’re taking up in my house. You’re on my couch, my comfy couch. You’re in the kitchen dancing with the roaches. Showering until the dead rise from their graves. You’re on the patio, smoking cigars with my neighbor Mussolini. Sprawled out on the dining room table, wearing nothing but a teacup. You left my handgun, loaded, on the shelf in the garage next to the potting soil. I nearly planted a gun tree! And those take forever to mature. Sort of like you. At night we watch movies and talk. It seems we have no choice. Have you seen this one before? It’s about an FBI agent who plants a garden. He’s not depressed or dealing with a crisis or anything. He does it for the vegetables. All in all, he’s a pretty decent agent, though he did get all those people killed in Texas. Your flight leaves in the morning.
Kevin Chesser is a writer and musician whose work has appeared in Hobart, The Talking Book, drDOCTOR, Empty House Press, Rabid Oak, and elsewhere. He lives in West Virginia.