"emery was at war with his mailman"
-eric said, around the fire by the squatted house.
"he refused to pick up his junkmail
so the ad catalogs and all that would just pile up in the mailbox,
and his mailman would get more and more pissed off at him,
but emery just wouldn't pick 'em up.
eventually it came to words
they would just start screaming at each other
whenever they saw each other."
-"oh the lines we draw"
it was a blustery spring day
giant banners unfurled from the windows of the houses.
we sat around the barrel fire
and shot the shit
for a while.