Two ships traverse a flooded forest after several nights in a motel made of scrap metal in search of the man the locals have been accusing of stealing the street lights at night. This man believes that this is innovation: a way to see the sky more clearly, a way to find a path to the sea, where these boats actually belong: along the boardwalk,the carousels, the dart games, and prizes for whining children. 

“Are” becomes “Can’t” before “Want” can even need “Not” and now the words of these two ship captains become discharge papers and daily glasses of whole milk, but the one who designed this plan nothing to swallow with, so “Is” just“Ain’t” and there’s a reptile in this fella: under his leaves and they’re damper than a dog. The fruit he offers is fictional and the captain with the zebra leg falls for it while the other captain binges on his nails, as in: not living parts of him, things he can garnish his meals with. 

But the forest is still flooded and no one is doing anything about the sounds under the water. Everyone is just listening to jokes about their ancestors and jazz that’s JUST ABOUT in-time, just ALMOST. These folks are waiting forChristmas presents, but they know they will only get unpopulated cities tailor-made for them. 

A new man appears made of thin, leaking fossils and gongs. The lights return,so long as the gong rings and the festival can now begin downtown; the vultures finally ascend from the flood. They return to the desert, to their shoe-shines and now the earth finally accepts the water in the absence of the vultures; the forest regains its true body. The two captains regain the salt in their lung sand the seashells on their palms; they fade back to the sea as an archer with no name watches them go, knowing the plan he had for them has failed. He becomes mute. A reptile is in this man as well, laughing at his lack of communicative oxygen. 

The forest becomes repopulated by butchers and banjo players with no calluses on their fingertips. They all own defective cars and whistle at Dolly as she tears up trees by the roots to make holes for her to piss in. The smell draws the boats back to the forest, but they cannot enter the forest now. They decide to create a sound loud enough to get rid of the forest entirely, to convince the butchers that radios and oils-rigs exist, to be GONE FOR GOOD and to learn the alphabet that their families didn’t invent. It was just between their ears,but just maybe. 

This still does not explain the flood in the first place. Why would the earth reject rain? The captains looked for reasons by the shore, they found whistles and string disguised as splinters. They find a man made of spiders in a house made of sunken ships. They asked him where the chants were coming from and he told them: “the cage of fruit behind the house”. The captains went behind the house and this time they fell for it. 

Then there was breeze and cold serenity. A figure takes them by the hands and leads them to a barren prairie, all except for one house. They turn to ask the figure where they are but he is gone. They turn back to the house and it is gone as well. The wind begins to sound like scissors and they feel the owner of the house breathing on every part of them until a screech, a low twang, and a helmet of discord wakes them up like a sermon that tells you that you’re evil.They were under the forest briefly and were cleansed momentarily, but when they returned to the surface the reality of the cleansing, the acceptance of the rain, and the absence of the vultures hits them in the face; the earth had taken all the water and the boats were now obsolete; they were now unemployed captains.

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