my throat an empty town where the words would echo if given voice. a rainy ghost town dissolving in water. a child: 'where do butterflies go when it rains?' but i know that one already. the undersides of leaves, the underside of my stomach; butterflies hide in the millimeters before the fuel light goes on. i set the car to cruise control, miss my exit, don't turn back. a misadventure in begging at a gas station - 'i don't normally do this...' i don't do anything normally. my ears my mouth a sewer for wasted concern. rather draining. yours or mine? the fuel light stays on. 'is there anyone you can call?' yes, ma'am, but no one i can reach. the sky is white, blank; a pair of birds brave soldiers crossing the field. it rained already, it is done now, but the clouds are not gone; regrouping. the second assault. bullets or tears? 'what could have precipitated this?' a joke! yes, it was all a joke.