When I wake up in the morning I don't know where I am. You are sleeping. Your mouth is half open. There is mold on your breath. Maybe outside will tell me where I am. Maybe I am in Lamar. But I feel like Laramie. Molly and Ralph, resurrected, will walk down the street. The lines in our faces have smudged and lightened. The sun will be shallow with the smell of snow high up. Ralph has his cowboy hat on. His hair is straight as cornsilk and crinks over his ears. Molly, you are a bad haircutter. We end up in the Chineese restaurant where the carpet's worn.