clubhouse for the dead

- At night you hear coyotes howling and deer screaming. At night you hear trains in the distance. At night you hear frogs. The worst nights are the ones where there are no sounds at all.

- You let your dog outside, on a tether, so he can’t run off. He stares out at the field behind your house, and further, at the woods behind it. You see nothing. You’re glad. It’s worse when you see what’s out there.

- The cats have caught something and dropped it on your back step, proud and haughty. You thank them. You have no idea what they caught. You never want to know what it is.

- Summer nights are full of bonfires and laughing and even though the fire is blazing, the light of it doesn’t reach very far. Shouldn’t it reach farther? Shouldn’t you be able to see everyone’s faces clearly? You haven’t had anything to drink. The fire doesn’t feel very warm at all.

- The corn fields are awful, yes, but you can ignore what walks them when the stalks are tall and golden. The soy years are worse. It’s almost impossible to ignore them, then. 

- Road crews fill in the potholes with asphalt. Road crews fill in the potholes with tar. Road crews fill in the potholes with meat. The roads are satisfied and you are safer.

- One night the road pops one of your tires. You do not leave the car. You do not check the damage. You call someone for aid, and it’s only when there are at least four people, all armed with heavy flashlights, that you leave the car. Someone is chanting in a language you don’t know. The eyes that watch you from the soy fields do not blink. 

- You shouldn’t swim in Lake Erie. All the same, you’ve seen people far away, in the water. 

- Everyone laughs and jokes about returning to the old ways if the snow keeps up. When it snows in March, towards the end of the month, the jokes become less funny. No one wants to draw straws.