I am a communist. That alone gets me in trouble with most people, I think. Poverty has always had the cultures of the world by the throat. How poor were we. There were three of us living in a cabin on a remote lake in upper Michigan. It is apart from the world. No one has a computer here. He left again to bring food when he could, and it became clear, survival and food, were on me. I was seven. I fished everyday. Sun up. Sun down and then some, fishing in the dark because we needed the calories because adults are traitors because. Because. Appalachia, for one, is a great place to hide. And work. There is whiskey you would not believe. The writing gig is a bigger hole than a still. Through which illusions count. Through which there is no empathy in our institutions that could become the consequence of You Could Be The Stranger On The Spaceship, too.