The day was sullen, the sun cold, shaded gray behind the clouds, the air biting my skin. In front of me a tree, dead and gray, waiting for its spring revival. My friends, my coworkers, my brothers. It was

woke up sour on a thursday. i dreamt a fishbowl universe where mice cohabitate with monkeys except when the monkeys get hungry. this is not a metaphor. call it nature. darwin’s gift house. or maybe another weekday dream. did