I saw Clarissa Dalloway trying to hail a cab at the corner of Polk and California, sometime around 8pm, I think. I’d just left the grocery store. I wanted some iced tea, a box of cereal and some grapes, but I was in no real rush to get home. Some homeless guy sang a song to me as I stood waiting to cross the street. Willie Nelson. The rush of sirens, suddenly. A breeze mistook me for a windmill.
When The Truth Hurts, Twist The Knife