Rain’s not quite quit. Green at the intersection says go. I remember nights like this in other cities when I thought of myself as the wanderer. Especially I remember Decatur, with its twenty-four hour eggroll shop that resembled a motorcycle garage. Intersections of individuals are just as important to us as memorable street and road intersections. Our cheerfulness has not failed to impress the back-broken night. Buckets of rain–what is there to say about that? I’m just being difficult. Beyond night, what is out there? Your reputation for coping is cracking. Scene requiring a moon spun in.