Every now and then, you’ve got to spend time somewhere else. Get on the fucking bike and go. I’m sorry, but can I borrow your couch for the night. What are you talking about. I love teenagers.

I lied.

Euphoria. Touch my work softly with the dust from your warm fingers and from your leather gloves despite the rain and Berlin is mad with art. It’s more like a mist out here on the street drips steam. Cigarettes smouldering. I don’t want to ring this doorbell. You are above everything. No one really knows there is an apartment there.

My autism has to have a place. I sit on the roof to do email.

On the roof like this is my ship, Mister Shipshape. I have a ladder and I climb on the roof of my cabin so I can see who’s coming after me. Then, I look down at my phone email to see who is coming after me. The birds are back. The woodpeckers are way loud and it reminds me that I am not the only life form here. Cubs can climb up on the roof. They think my cabin is a tree. I tell them they are on a cabin but bears just don’t listen. Old Mama is out on the dock fishing. She comes around at sunrise. Lumbering and breathing low. Blue wind off the Blue Ridge.

She catches the bitty browns and she gobbles them right down. Mama feeds herself. Then, she feeds the kids. Mama might have to get out of Dodge fast.

You never know. I leave a big pot out there and pour some whiskey in it. Cubs like whiskey. If my phone were to ring, I would miss the bears because they would never be back.

Bears remember. I’m the one with no memory cells. My crow’s name is Shoulders. I thought it was amusing when he started sitting on my dirt bike. It took me some time to realize that what he’s looking at is himself. Rear view mirrors reflect to him a crow who has invaded his territory. He has vowed to get that crow in the mirror. Shoulders thinks the review mirrors are life. I look down at this phone I am typing on assuming email is life. I would like to lob the phone into the lake. But I am a photographer and have to send stuff around. Shoulders would not think email is stuff. He would peck at it.