• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 07

‘Grand Rapid Prodigal’

So it turns out my new job is to be
a ghost in my own life. I mean, who
better but also: the way my luck is
running right now I’d probably lose

out to a newly-landed alien, or a
hammered sea serpent with a Skittles
fixation and a grudge against time.
I dunno why you’re trying to ride me

to somewhere better – I’m famed for
pulling up at the second fence, and
then waiting, pouting, tail crossed
for redemption, forgiveness, baffle-

ment all at once. Christ we are all
languishing while dreams turn to
pollen running through our fingers.
Did I tell you my dearest wish is

only to write a novel called ‘Grand
Rapid Prodigal’? Of course not, why
leave myself open like that? Be
vulnerable the self-help maestros say,

and all that’s left me with is a beard
of Persian ironwood and three twitches
in my left eye.