The raccoons came back tonight. Two crept up on me while I was writing something else. We startled each other. I had to stand up and be big real fast in the middle of my spliff. Raccoon chitters are scary, and the arched creep of them is kind of ghastly. As I eyed those weirdos in the shadowy dark their defensive, awkward pugnaciousness brought to mind some students. Everyone feels cornered sometimes, teenagers most of all. Long after my heartbeat slowed, I thought of you. I write ridiculous shit, but I don’t believe most of it. I believe you love me when you can. I believe that shoveling the raccoon shit from the driveway was a smart move. I don’t mind taking direction from you. I wish there was more of it.

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