What if you didn’t owe any money, and all your stuff was in a 10 by 15 foot storage locker, and you were single and not desperately lonely—in fact, it feels like you might never be desperately lonely ever again—and your truck runs good enough, and your body works well, too. No prescription drugs necessary, no surgery pending. A little work on the teeth being put off, but when has that ever not been true.
What if you lost your grip on decades of habits of work and play. What if your dreaming at night became voyages through bright paintings; you move through a vast museum of scenes in vivid color, walking into conversations that delight, pauses that illuminate, faces turned to you with wonder and curiosity and you look back: potent, willing, pleased.
And what if visions pop back into your head from your daydreaming youth. That space
