Two

i don't think much 'bout the way things have been, or used to be. i know i fucked up quite a bit and now i guess this is just the way things are. was born north of here and haven't made it too far--think just about the only difference between us here is how we got here rightnow. i mean--you've gotten here without really thinkin' 'bout it too much, and fuckin' here i am fifty-two this mornin' without a fuckin' leg to stand on. Goddamn leg to stand on. Migel i know you just sittin' there smilin' 'bout somethin...well fuck you anyhow its my birthday and i don't give a shit what you think

Miguel laughs, smiles, drinks his cerveza. Glenn you want 'nother piece birthday cake man or i buy you 'nother cerveza before i go home amigo--got work tomorrow like you

he waits a second as Glenn's head weaves in the air a little like a cow's might if you smacked it between the eyes with a hammer. he stares straight ahead, eyelids raised asymmetrically. Ok cerveza it is bud, Miguel states without response.

Miguel buys the beer, finishes his own, slaps Glenn lightly on the back and leaves his weaving head and droopy eyes alone in the haze of the bar.

Glenn sits like that for a few more minutes and then emerges from whatever place he had visited, raises his head up and gets off the barstool like a praying mantis negotiates walking over a highly uneven surface.

he bumps into the door twice before succeeding in exiting the building. The cold is liquid and bracing, the sky so full of heavy stars. Glenn retches before his hands can fumble with the pickup's door enough to get it open, and he pauses again to pant and wipe his mouth before he ascends in slow-motion into the cab. The bar is at most a half-mile from Glenn's trailer and he's made the drive wasted more times than is reasonable; he drives slowly along a road adjacent to the highway, swerving slightly but remaining amazingly true. He passes out fully clothed, and after a few hours continues to sleep as the sky drips stars and a long car swerves off the highway and into the loop of the trailerpark, gravel dustcloud gray in the starlight, back end fishtailing and occupants thrown to one side of the car then righting themselves as the car straightens out and screams back onto the black road.