Bright — By Jay Mcinerney — Lights, Big City in pieces

Cut-up by

Kyngtrampstamp

I live in the country side.

It takes a minute for you to place the face.

You shake your head.

The Nightwatchman nods at your employee ID card and tells you to sign the book.

The bell over the door rings as you enter.

The Druid calls three times

Your hands are beginning to shake and you decide on a booster shot.

You hold the bottle up to the light.

You switch on the tube.

By the time you compose an excuse it seems too late.

You are the stuff of which consumer profiles are made.