“RV loves fly fishing loves Cat On A Hot Tin Roof RV loved Sister Anne Marie the only Catholic nun he ever knew who could not stop laughing RV has published nonsense in all the best waffle houses has gorgeously attempted mouth-to-mouth resuscitation with his wife Tina at least 10,000 times RV intuits the unbearable weight of the feeling world RV flosses like a motherfucker RV races back and forth in the basement before dawn hoping to learn how to fly RV uses a calculator for the simplest arithmetic even 2+2 RV had an asthma attack once as a boy and tried to jump out the window RV asks God what God how God all this beauty God all this pain RV has a squirt gun whose nickname is Squirt RV calls his brother drunk and weeping with joy into the phone actual tears actual droplets that cause static but also emotional clarity whose sentiments will live forever RV talks to the dead rehearses for the dead knows the dead are watching as he walks in the river and almost trips over the sunken log RV studies his hands with a clinical detachment as he ages noting the spots beginning to form not unlike the burnt corollas of stars RV pretends to be an academic and academic-minded and wears tweed pants but at the end of the day tears off his clothes like an old testament prophet with beetles hopping out of his hair RV likes his vodka likes his vodka as if vodka were a galloping horse on some far flung meadow and he riding said horse holding on for dear life”
this little book is joy
