When the eyes hit the island, and
all I can remember is the past, I'll
know things are over for me. L'il
Abner, was it? Kickapoo Joy Juice?
And how come I remember that? My
1958 spear-headed kickback of
comic-book slime. I don't even
want to remember it, yet there it
is. An exploded bladder, running
on, all over me. I can't find the
silence, yet I can't leave the noise.