Look, all I’m saying is we’re going to walk into these here woods, maybe drunk, maybe high, wander in a ways, get our shoes and cuffs wet, down to the socks, the toes, get smacked around by branches and their prissy leaves, then the pines will give us the business, red cheeks getting redder, stumble around like we’re 17 again, say it’s darkness, cold to the bone and soul, look for a place not thick with brambles and trees, find a sort of clearing, not a real one, a place with no moon nor stars, no place to sit but some trees to lean against, laugh because we’re stupid, like this, hopping glad, get real close when we realize we’re lost, laugh again, pray in our heads to something holy, get turned on by the hopelessness of everything, and fuck, probably not for very long, mood being what it is, but just long enough to remember that we can and so we do, right there and then.