Crooked roads, houses all but fallen, deer skulls over the doorways with red ribbons webbed between antlers. I needed someone to erase my name, remove my identification, as I knew lines of volunteers and off-duty cops were walking the lots and playgrounds looking for my body, half scared janitors checking dumpsters in the alley, sloppy Times New Roman flyers with last year's school picture on every shop front and telephone pole -- the bathroom dye-job wouldn't be enough to keep them at bay, not for long. In the back of an empty shoe store I softened the skull and applied large wooden vices, repeating the process for my hands and replacing my eyes with white shooter marbles so that I was less a child than a blind midget. I kept my eyes in a thermos filled with ice, dressed in clothes taken from a hung thief at the city gate and went back into the street, where the people could not help but let the eye linger a moment on my apparent miseries, hidden in plain sight.

the exit is hidden within the exit