he's standing on a table.
i'm looking up at him, "this bar, the city, this city isn't the place to lose your mind," i try to tell george.
george only listens to sad songs.
he's coming undone. he's been thrown out of 3 bars. one bar twice, did 12 years in state, said he loves her.
"i only stabbed her with the steak knife. i wasn't trying to kill her."
he blames it on the moon.
"the gravitational pull...we have water... our bodies are 80 per cent water, " george tells me. "our brains...90...the same thing... happens to the tides."
his eyes roll back and forth adrift in that ocean. "and why do barbers always think they need to talk to you."
edged with sadness, his mind filled with ghosts, his x-wife runs around inside his head like a mouse upon a wheel.
and the wind runs dancing through the trees.
