with a strange blend of sounds in my head, i am full and i.  can’t decide if it was real, any of it.  we walked among the.  dead places trees bodies and people and dead crunch shells in the sand.  grotesque like the bulging throat of a cormorant as it swallows live fish.  unearthly the purple sheen of scales eye socket on a disembodied head, reflecting the next day’s sun.  translucent jellyfish carcass picked over by seagulls.  dark broken mausoleum window.  smeared insect.

maybe it wasn’t real.  maybe i was dead, too.