When I heard that Scott had died, I told my boss that I wanted the next day and I and t home and said nothing of my plan to my wife. I didn’t want her to ask me id we could afford the gas, because I knew we couldn’t. That wasn’t going to stop me.
And so the next morning, I put on my suit as usual and drove flat out west to the Mississippi. I thought maybe that the history or the water or something would help. Maybe I would hear something on the wind, like Rilke at Dino.
But I didn’t. I heard nothing. All there was was swirling leaves.
When I got back home I told her my day had been fine, and we had dinner. Afterwards, Scott was still dead and I was still a broke public defender with court in the morning.