by Chris Farago.
I was with, teaching them to
darn their own skin in case of
a mishap among the pliant furs.
one of them told me no we’re fine,
dial back the fanaticism to a three—
we’ll edit our lore and make you
an honorary wolf if you just
shut the fuck about disaster
for a few minutes. I told them
I can’t do that: worry is my fuel
and my being and my snuff.
I never wanted to be a wolf anyway.