If I´m going back I need an umbrella, and the rain, the dimming artifacts of the street. I need to stumble upon the rest of this dumb century and avoid it. Many nights I had no explanations. I need to consider every piece of evidence, tiny, subterranean, put it back where it belongs and never leave it behind again. Take back the year, hang tedium in the sky electric. Submit myself to the bugs’ trajectory. Sleep with the light on, bet my life on a blanket. I need to extinguish the hole where my teeth should be, stop, get out unscathed.