I met a man with death in his throat. He had to talk around it, raspy and soft. Words twisted around half a tongue. He had just come back from the mainland where they had tried to kill it with radiation. He had lain next to another veteran and they had painfully whispered to each …

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What happens to a dream burned out? Does it flop helpless like a gasping trout? Does it strike you like an open fist? Or does it vanish like the morning mist? –missed, you were missed at her party– Part, part of me wishes I remembered why –why don’t you call? We want to know how …

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White coat blues, got them white coat blues.