Page 25 of Wayfarers

unsteady, open the door

and he pulls

and pulls harder and then I’m not

holding the leash anymore,

I’m lurching forward

like a car crash, I’m face down

on the ground, my dog a gold flash

in the night. Winslow, I yell,

Winslow, come back, gravel

in my chin, blood in my eyes,

struggling up in time to see

one more thing

disappear into the night.

Knox

“Hey,” I whisper hoarsely to her as I catch up to her from behind.

She spins. Tears map her face. Even in the low light I can see it’s The Girl. The circumstances allow me no rush of excitement.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to—you cool?” Now I notice her expression is wounded.

She shakes her head and wipes her eyes. “I can’t find my dog. I think he ran off to chase a skunk or something and I’ve been calling and I just, like, can’t lose him too.”

“Oh man. Need help?”

“Please.”

“You told me his name by the showers. It sort of rhymed with Bilbo?” This is when I realize that me and The Girl exchanged dog names but not our own.

“Winslow.”

“Winslow, Winslow,” I murmur to etch it into my groggy brain. “Okay, I’m gonna look for him in there.” I point to a copse of trees on a steep slope.

“Hold on.” The Girl runs back to her van for a ragged stuffed gnome. “This is his favorite guy. Maybe you can use it to lure him.”

I take the gnome. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

I sprint into the dark woods, footing precarious on the steep grade and thick underbrush, and hope I can make good on my promise. I would love to score some good-guy points with The Girl.

Knox Any Place That Would Receive Me

My mom taught me the power

of manifestation. You can bend

reality with just the power