Why'd I take my damp clothes off in the kitchen when I got home tonight,
tucking sox into boots, using my hand for a foot, jeans over sox, shirt into
jeans, laying them out on the floor as if whoever'd been there lying supine
had simply disappeared, Exhibit A for Sarah to find before grinding the coffee
to assemble the morning, a missing man like in the movie I just
saw--The Perfect Storm--who got
in over his head and... dissolved?