Casual Sex
by Jason Nelson
We’re sitting in an empty room. And we are defined as four people. The
first has a sense about things. And when I say things I mean more than you
can imagine. You just don’t have the needed imaginative powers. The second
knows which direction to go. And when I say direction I only mean north.
But we, me and the other two, don’t tell the second that we already know
the direction. The third is me. And I only have a pair of pants and some
semi-gloss house paint. Though both of these items do come in handy. I just
can’t tell you how. Honestly, I’m not supposed to tell you. The fourth owns
Nevada. Well, it’s actually just the portions of Northern Arizona that look
like Nevada. But when you think about it, there really isn’t much of a
difference.
“Crickets”
