we moved around lincoln alot, i have memories of sleeping in cars and waking up under powerlines with lightning bolts moving around my head and barry taught me how to piss offa the roof at night when mom was asleep, i would climb out my window and piss a hundred feet down into the dirt, but i called it "pissing on hell" and then i'd howl like a coyote and crawl back through into my bed with the ninja turtle sheets. and i used to give my pancakes to the neighbourkid across the way, past the bushes where dustclouds always seemed to kick up and he would eat the pancakes even with the dirt in the syrup and later he got cancer or his mom did, but they were gone either way. when i remember him now in my mind he seems like a boy made out of dirt and wax and fly paper and made some twine, very un-permanent and ready to die.

some nights i would take alla my clothes outta the dresser and pile them on myself laying down cause i liked the weight on me, like when night came down it came down on me really and sometimes i would empty out my pillow case and go and steal the tin foil bases of these tiny white candles mom baught for 10 cents a peice and i would go and bury them out in the back yard which was mostly dirt and i'd draw complex maps, including ideas and instructions of what to do with them, the ideas always ended with running away to join the peoria freak circus, except there wasn't a freak circus in peoria, there wasn't anything in peoria, except tired, ugly dogs and old men and gymnasts and factories. except i bet there wasn't that either but that's how i remember it is all.