“‘You ever look in your yearbook?’ I gulp down the rest of my City.
She goes crazy laughing. ‘You know,’ she says, ‘I don’t even know where I put the thing.’
I feel way too mean to say anything. I look across the railroad to a field sown in timothy. There are wells there, pumps to suck the ancient gases. The gas burns blue, and I wonder if the ancient sun was blue. The tracks run on till they’re a dot in the brown haze. They give off clicks from their switches. Some tankers wait on the spur. Their wheels are rusting to the tracks. I wonder what the hell I ever wanted with trilobites.”