Fifteen dollar Malbec, you lean over the patio to release two minutes of toothpaste from a morning. Thunder cat like an evergreen, quiet in the missionary trees and sleeping until tomorrow. I pour a bowl of cereal, she pours a pint, you pour your body into a lazy bed. Crescent door creaks spark a path in the leaves—forget clean. Survival, it’s a corn tortilla with beans, a wading downstream, and all the best case scenarios I’m forgetting.