We were riding an N-Judah that went off the rails and flipped upside down onto a passenger platform. There was much screaming and bleeding and gnashing of teeth and the doors opened and a T-Third Street was waiting for us. We tried to send C a text message on paper to complain about our ordeals, but realized weâ€™d forgotten her number and had left our phone at home. Then some ruffians harassed us and we sat down and two old women handed us a hundred dollar bill. The T-Third Street came up from underground and we looked at a city in ruinsâ€”buildings gutted and smoldering, bridges falling into the oily water. We got off the train at the park and found you amongst strangers and friends and veterans under a spinning tree. We played in the wind for a while and then boarded a strange RV and rode it out of town on empty roads. We were going camping. Or maybe to a music festival. You were packing a bowl of sticky greens and an annoying guy we knew once at Benning sat down next to us and smoked all your weed. We were heading smiling into the abyss.