Vivi sat beside Alfonzo, nudging him awake. He kept his eyes closed, as if his dreams might leak out if he opened them. He wanted to keep the sad sensation. With their time now too short, Vivi hummed about their past. She hummed that he would always be a part of her herd. Big tears welled. He was one of everyone. By marking him as a part of her herd, she transformed him. He was not the old unbearable love; he was a member of the group. As if everyone were equal in this survival struggle. Just an animal among animals leading their beautiful lives.

“You can’t miss the boat.”

The glass wall glowed with the gray light of coming dawn. Vivi made tea, and the light outlined the steam spiraling from the travel mug. She pushed him out the door and along the path to the ferry terminal. Stay, he thought desperately.

Clouds were gathering above. Clouds were llamas swelled with water, ready to cry on the seas and cities. The clouds moved into the unknown, and he followed. He was ready to jump into the ocean to see if he could swim. Everyone was connected. Vivi didn’t speak. He watched her walk before him. All his concentration squeezed into a droplet.

“I can’t believe it ends like this,” he said.

“It doesn’t.”

At the dock Alfonzo and Vivi entwined their necks. The ferry dog called out for him to come if he was coming, then pulled a rope across the entryway, separating shore and boat.

And that was it.

The ferry took him to the train that would take him to the city.

Alfonzo slouched into a seat facing away from the direction of travel. See the disasters piling up behind as you are blown backward into the uncertain future. Breathing deeply, he removed his notebook from his satchel. In a trance, he transcribed. He was not the writer or the singer. He was simply the scribe.

When he finished, he tore out the leaves, crumpled them, put them in his mouth, and chewed. He would digest what he had heard. He would teach himself a lesson. Absorb it. Use it for fuel. He was just one channel. He was just an alpaca moving messages from beyond, back into himself, through himself, all so he could pass along what the sea sang into him.

SARDINES

32.

The train retraced its path from the End of the World back to the center of everything. The repeating backyards grew smaller and smaller the closer the train drew to the city. Somewhere in Brooklyn the yards vanished and were replaced by apartment walls. The clouds grayed overhead. The train went underground and Alfonzo, a thoroughly chewed-up morsel, was finally deposited deep in Atlantic Station.