You were an Angel, screaming at airplanes in the parking lot of Costco. Our eyes locked just as you pulled the last of your hair out. It was as red as the red in the RED LOBSTER signs I’ve heard of in modern lore. I was wearing bermuda shorts and a vintage wedding gown that I may or definitely may have stolen from a yacht earlier in the day. You smelled of tapioca and longing. Set your jean jacket on fire, I’ll find you.