She asked what we did for fun where I lived because in Albuquerque where she lived it was pretty boring and incredibly poor so they just stuck to booze drugs and shooting guns in the mesa before rolling back into town beneath the fire of morning skies to tattoo each other only to wake in the afternoon with forgotten moments now made forever as fuck. I told her I knew no fun, no fun like that anyway. She said it wasn’t fun because it got boring and caused infections but next week they’d do peyote and fuck knows what direction the ink would go after a night of that shit but you for sure, she said, you for sure would stare at the sky like it had all the answers and end up the next day with a bunch of regrettable hand-poked stars on your knuckles and that shit tires swift as life. Fuck you, I said, I’m so down for that. All she said to turn me off turned me on so I quit what I was doing which wasn’t much anyway and bought a ticket to my death.