Some people are together and alone.

We’re alone together.

There’s a difference.

It’s an element of time.

You’re working on your book.

I’m working on working on my self.

He’s watching dump trucks for his brain.

We’re alone together.

Dad said he believed in God,

took the money,

and went back to the tent outside the trap house.

In case I forget, I did tell him I thought he’d be dead within a year.

His blood isn’t on my hands.

What should I do with the rest?