It was just the idea of it, he thought.
The reality… piles of nothing.
Like the man that was swallowed up by the sinkhole in his bedroom.
He never stood a chance.
“What happened to Hank?”
“The earth ate him.”
The idea though… the idea was novel.
He believed he was a god-damn genius.
And he spoke the words to her like he was singing bible hymns.
She said, “Not tonight, Mr Sensitivity.
Sure, you’ve been dancin’ all your life
but you ain’t ever gonna dance with me.”
He grew old and bitter.
He poured liquor on his wounds so they would not heal.
He became a stray.
“What happened to Hank?”
“The earth ate him.”
But even dogs have things they can dream about.
And the earth will spit him out.


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