<v AudioDescriptions> This piece is read by Nikki Reimer. No other audio during the 01:25 clip.
The year was always either 1987 or 2087. We left New Mexico in the morning. It was evening in Sweden. The shimmering lakes in your eyes marked the end of the highway.Mother and Father disappeared following the Electric String bean Incident. It’s been decades, or days. I can’t tell. The clocks have gone cold. One thousand incandescent suns dot the map of each absence. The graveyard blinking off and on, our neon desert of dreams. Your chest has stilled, but I’ll sit here inGrandfather’s chair till you wake up. The baking’s gone moldy and the cans are all rusted. I need you to finish ironing the tablecloth. Is this blasted pantry disgusting, or righteous? Swollen cake. Rubber cats. Who is watching the time?Someone forgot to close the window, now the piano’s all dusty. We are far fromTelegraph Hill, but the parrots continue to circle. Such flashes of red brilliance, green horror, the dawn.