(dedicated to Amy Donaldson)
it's the background noise that gets to them, the invisible workers.
one moment they're cleaning crystal candy dishes and the next they think they can hear the faint sound of distant sirens with that mosquito whine that can mean death, or nothing.
they floated to earth many years ago, a race of beings who can walk on gravel and disappear into the woodwork at the drop of a tomato. we welcomed them with open eyes at first, but they kept working so silently that soon we didn't know what or why, only who.
that's when the dry gulching began.
sometimes they hear echoing laughter from fire hydrants and sluice gates, mocking their unstable existence -- and this is what drives them to binge on See's dark chocolates. you can't reason with them when they're like that. just give them a straight edged ruler and encourage them to connect the dots.
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