the straining of leaves and I felt like we were in the fifties but awoke to an infomercial of supported breasts and an advanced push bra. it’s all over again and the ache stretches through the bones until it clamors in the mouth, drying up the spit and withering the gum. every action should have a consequence else we find ourselves drunk and disorderly, fumbling our keys trying to break into our own homes.