Sometimes it still repeats on me, and questions that can never be answered, and things that seem unreal to others discussed in the warm light of day in a world thousands of miles away from years of madness. I still remember. I still wonder. I can’t help but be reminded of it, but know that it won’t change, and wondering doesn’t help, and neither does anything anyone says about a night without witnesses where I ran away, dodged a bullet, and escaped. Also I sometimes love my island home a little too much, making love to it by walking it with my feet, raking over its details with ears and eyes, and sweat and rash up. It’s funny to love an island so hard I’m walking like a bowlegged equestrian. If I could walk off these thoughts I would, but instead I’ll confess them a bit between canine tirades and classic car engine roars.