Then midnight rolls around, fogged out, with low clouds scudding overhead. At the corner store, adjacent the cemetery, antique hotdogs glisten on their stainless-steel rollers. Overhead fluorescents shimmer pale in greasy reflection. I take a hotdog from the case and apply my condiments of choice, mustard and sauerkraut, to promote good breath, ease nig…
Romantic Exchanges
In the Palace of Time
