My Afternoon Walk

Since it’s a nice afternoon, I walk to my chariot; then I drive to the saloon; then take the exit tunnel to the corner store and purchase some sackcloth, which I give to a poor supermodel who is posing at the roadside; she points to a full-length mirror, and I drive through it and merge into my own alter-shoes. Now backing down the street, I make a U-turn at an angel statue in an evergreen and locate my other double; then we don our tarp and drive over the pond together, past the ducks and the military vehicles, into our garden. We race up a ramp and brake hard while half-leaping. Though we aim for the cool of the eve, we land in a trench, where we meet an elderly mercenary who bequeaths us a can (it’s the one that contains the heavenly waters from our essay “The Ambiguous Liberty Quilt”). Surviving the enjoyment of this beverage, we use an ark to escape ourselves; then come to rest on top of a mount, and we all fall in.