On New Year’s Eve, My Mom Tells Me That My Dead Dad’s Great-Uncle Ran Away With a Carnival

When I look out the window, the winter wind is knocking over everyone’s garbage cans. Rolling down Delavan, the beer bottles look like they’re running away from something. I don’t blame them. The worst thing about Lake Effect is you can never see the worst of it.

A little later, Rick tells me we are the children of porn stars. He’s wearing shades and smoking a cigar like a dictator when he takes over an island. Visions of sword swallowers enter my mind and I realize we always aim the sharpest things at the softest parts of ourselves.