American Chordata: Magazine of New Writing Issue One, Spring 2015 | Page 81

Dav i d Lu r a s c h i Seven Cans Of Goya On Pete’s Foot, 2012 Emma Furman Saccades There is no happy childhood. You just grow away. Stars surface on still water. All the “I love you”s. There’s a parking lot at the bottom of this canyon. Someone saying “I could have talked to a wall that night.” Someone saying “You’re an ass. A total ass.” At the same time every night, the street lights turn on. I know I am approaching the end of my depth, when a horse, a literal horse, trots out from the dark in photographic reality. 63