By TS Hidalgo
Artwork by Alli Rowe
I drive by a lonely area.
I’m skint
(I studied at Wharton.
I was incredibly competitive).
I’m listening to the radio.
Rain of losers.
An advertisement.
and another, and another, and another and another and
A talk about writers who were visionaries is just beginning.
They talk about Jonathan Swift.
That strikes me a bit
(because, in Las Vegas, I’d bet, I swear,
that he would be the last one,
or one of the last,
I would have come to mind).
I turn the corner of a street where there are hardly any cars.
In fact, only one…
What is the probability that such a thing happen?
And butterflies, many butterflies…
those flying worms.
These kinds of things happen to me a lot and I get scared.
Carl Jung would have entertained a lot with me.
