i don't think you understand. I get sad when I visit gas stations on highways with no real towns or cities in sight. when i see old men with hybrid mullet-rattail hairdos working in the post office. there are three of them here. one wears those tacky circular glasses that darken in the sunlight. i can barely bare to visit suburbs anymore. i want to weep. that's dramatic: "weep." i mean, i never shed a tear, but i always feel like the atmospheric pressure has risen. things constrict. i can't help but to imagine living that life. handing people packages or cigarettes. driving home through the fields of traffic and scorn to your trailer or edward scissorhands house. turning on your television while you microwave a pasty burrito with chemical names in the ingredients. the horrible television people must be watching. there's scientific evidence. are you imagining this now? i remember the sickness of going to pizza hut and walmart and driving around and around to try to get lost but you know every fucking stalk of corn like a good neighbor's house. i remember how sad my ankles were in that town.