Dry in Wendy’s being told she never existed by a man who didn’t till now when he needed a few dollars to get a fish burger that slapped around into his mouth where he said any path is home to ghosts because they pull at you, the millions of people you couldda met and couldda been too instead of this person who is falling asleep now, forgetting that dreamers never learn but go back to the earth to be reclaimed like recycled paper which the man throws in the garbage instead and though the world doesn’t collapse, it must be pretty close because he says how shit is getting worse and the Wendy’s is bad enough already with its smiling logo against the dead sky like a band-aid to stop the bleeding of the night which shuffles into my mouth as i snore a little more, thinking of the girls who knew what it meant to go back to before all this crap and sire primordial nature in me after the hunt for them, erect but slouching until nudged by the man. Any more green, he asks. He says he is on a diet. His eyes devour the moon. The horizon frowns above us all, trying to grill the earth.