Samantha didn’t know where she was. Her foot was heavy on the pedal, gliding down the open, hilly slopes of the backcountry. Cellphone in one hand; the GPS buffering. Twice already she almost crashed. Approaching out of...

There atop a steaming sewer vent, beside a murky gutter, laid a rat burrowed in a heap of filthy blankets. Its face coarse, its claws yellow from grime, its fur stained by seeping garbage bags and its tail severed....

sometimes all I want to do is sadcome-on mother fuckersput a label on thatI'm a hard workingblood sweating prickwho'll never take anyone's shitand that's the twistyou'll keep trying to figure me outalways in love with those labelsidentifying the unidentifiableI...