A Spectre Is Haunting Europe
against the animals
she told me some nonsense about a singer whose records had sucked for years. I said something about the moon and stars, and how close we were to being whores. still, this carried on, despite the gross interruptions of all her failing suitors. at the end of the glacier, the mighty Fraser swells and spills its fishes in the fields, flushes out the road with human bones. and I wish I had a tree fort. and nowâs the only thing thatâs real. it makes the book you wrote me into pale. the âthenâs are the only things we feel, which makes us seem against the animals.