Myrmidon
With the hotel’s last last century windows peering from amidst the jungle to look down the waterfall’s terrible throat, I should have been satisfied on the last bit of morcilla riding my caipirinha down my gullet. How could I be with Cybulski on the deep drum pin – a mosquito whining constantly “Room service bug…
Deckmaster
I first saw this trump card, sitting in the half frame of the dealer’s index and thumb, on the morning of the night I earned that nickname. The card dealer had given me the run around, messing with me, showing me inferior products either homemade or without real histories, but I had waved all away…
Islands
In one, thumbed cats hunt her through their midnight jungles. The sounds of her flight and their pursuit merge into a single cacophony of the forest breaking. The feathers brushing her cheek are a night bird until she hears the dart stick into a tree beside her. She steps off course and sinks into cover.…
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