It happened that a happening was happening to happen.
April 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
When I was four years old I lived in a grey house with a breezeway on Walnut Street in a little town in the Missouri River Basin called Anita. I was outside playing in the street one day when my mother emerged from the house running toward me asking what in God’s name I was doing. I was in the street with a box of empty glass Coca-Cola bottles, hurling them one by one onto the pavement, shattering them.
I just wanted to see what would happen, I said.