When i worked for the forest service my coworker jordans ex girlfriend would mail him ziploc bags of half smoked hand rolled cigarettes because she only liked the taste of the first half and we would smoke her lipstick stained rollies on the shore of some crystal clear glacial lake and our coworkers called us big red and lil red and one time we had to shoot our injured horse in the head and blow up the body with dynamite and this fine pink mist floated so soft and slow in the beams of sunlight coming through the hemlocks and later that night we got a jug of wine and laid in the grass under a sky with more stars than id ever seen before or since and jordan told me about how he spent 25k on alcohol the year before and how he watched a guy blow his head off playing russian roulette and how he used to chase antelopes in wyoming as a kid and never caught one and of course he didnt but he said that explains his whole life. But jordan didnt call me lil red he called me virginia and ive never loved a nickname more and i think about him everytime i smoke a hand rolled cigarette and everytime i see a horse with a bald face and everytime i take a big fat line and remember im also just a dumb kid thats never gonna catch the antelopes
