His shadow stood where his body was banned. He threw his eyes like he knew he could get away with not calling Death ‘Sir.’

He left town at 19, made a pact with a goat that steals wine.

I assumed he would end up with his bike-riding calvary, shooting dice in the ocean, with the other uncles who refused the furnace. I should have known better, Jones could sell birds a 6-month supply of air and ask for the cash up front. I learned his fate

in the newspaper, where I learned Bryant St claimed 4 more boys. We lose about a dozen a year. Next to that article was Hopper, now named Emperor Jones, of an island trading coffee and cocoa. Last time I saw him he was wearing a baseball cap, now feathers ricochet on his head. It is no use to me lying to God about fighting temptation, when I am ready to trade my belly to reign over an ox-ploughed kingdom. The emperor eats 8 giant chickens a day and barrels of buttered corn. The locals believe him to be a God because he performed a miracle. The article does not mention the miracle he performed, I assume he became one. He did not walk on water, and he made sure he didn’t spread the word when his mama purchased fresh brisket. He arrived on the island with chains on his ankles, looked Death in the eye, called him by his first name, and walked away singing because he believed he had more important things to do. Here, smoke is not always the offspring of retaliation, sometimes it is the scum from a pipe, held by a hand with no ability to make a fist. What is the use of commandments if they do not extend to us? If God’s insurance policy does not cover the areas where hymns are sung out of necessity? ‘This time I’m leaving for good’ I say, and I make extra sandwiches, but then I’m ordered to do another job that I was not originally hired to do, I say ‘yes ma’am,’ bow my head while I speak, then wait for permission to leave.