The country of mechanics, waiting to repair me. My headset, held with duct tape. The strums of
my air guitar - electric, of course. Every art piece that made me a human-sized God. The July sky
spread like a stomach, stratus clouds for stretch marks. The sandbox where thambi plays. The
times appa cleaves the base of an onion and leaves behind a colosseum. My first heartbreak. The
heartbreak after that, and the heartbreak after that. The screeeeeeeeeeeech of the elevator as it
reaches the psych ward. A felled tree, branches laid like the legs of a centipede. Every detail lost.
The kind of truth that a lie tells best. My dinners with Death- horizon on the doorstep.