i went to sleep one day – did i tell you this story? – and i was in the city of fort worth. i was out at the edge of town, where the trinity river rolls through the woods below bridges and a wrong turn meanders into the countryside where chupacabras and armadillos have their quiet little turf wars. i was living in fort worth, though, and i liked it there. i could walk into town and be the city boy i have always been.
but one night, the city limits slipped upriver.
the armadillos are gaining ground, i guess. the chupacabras are slipping back into the sewers and dumpsters, and the armadillos are charging hard.
i woke up in a city called Benbrook, unaware that the earth had moved below my head.
when i take my trash to the dumpster in the dark, i watch the deep woods and listen to the rustling there. i haven’t seen a chupacabra in quite a while. i’ve seen some raccoons. i’ve seen some armadillos. i’ve heard birds singing.
no more cackles. no more howls.
i live in benbrook, now. i moved without moving. apparently, my parents were wrong. the earth does revolve around me.