A Story for Kara Petracca

On the East side of Bloomington, Illinois, Washington Street crippled by speed bumps on the way to my childhood home away from home and 2025 USTA Facility of the Year Evergreen Racquet Club, not to be confused with the ill-run shooting range where I once fed balls for a few years to a fierce wolfpack of ladies of the morning and recently closed Evergreen Tennis in Camas, Washington, sits a modest two-story, single family home with a Jesus Saves sign in the front yard where I have witnessed while here from Japan keeping an eye on my sunsetting lifelong lady of the morning wolfmother no evidence of Jesus at work but two dogs patrolling the sloped roof over the garage on multiple occasions barking at babies in strollers, older kids on electric bikes, me on another magical Moto Guzzi I stole off some Trump-loving dealer named Rick in Decatur around Christmas with talk of writing nice things about Rick later and anyone else passing by on the sidewalk or street below while begging the question who will save these dogs from their American masters promising salvation to others while deserving nothing short of crucifixion for being so fucking stupid like an awful lot of folks around here themselves.