James Croal Jackson GETTING HIGH ON MAX'S PORCH we're on a playground of mosquitos finding poems about space and math to read because his brother's in town and he's an idealistic futurist so we pass the pipe trading poems and smoke and dreams (a glass of water the tides of Lake Erie) I ask which Little Caesar's location is your favorite all time (five dollar orange brown cardboard. gas station lighters burning thumbs) everyone answers the one in my hometown and we're 1997 sitting in a mildewy basement sketching cartoons in blue binders on greasy carpets full of the future waiting for the future and mallards in the pond sing all wing and trouble hoping for something to disturb the water so we can fly