- Vol. 05
- Chapter 03
Blue smoke. False like telling my dogs our walk will end up in Canada beside a crystal lake when we’ll really pass broken glass, and overflowing garbage cans. Our out of the blue heading into winter’s east wind and loving those leaf skitters stuck in chain link. The big articulated fan of Arctic north flaps frigid over us, a terrier with a blue coat that matches mine and a survivor dog with fur who sniffs the gray ash of someone keeping warm burning pick-up sticks. I’m the only one who sees the magician’s blue smoke for what it is: artifice.