This is His place.

A row home, split in two on a narrow street, an overgrown patch of grass across the potholed way. I will take my dog there to relieve herself while I smoke weed on my keychain’s red batty.

The sidewalk out front is cracked and jagged, weeds testing the integrity of concrete. I will slough off Jaegerbombs and sleep on the sidewalk, stomach bubbling to find my car’s passenger-side window shattered in regular cubes of the autoglass that litter the fractured pavement.