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When we get mad, we only get mad to level 4 out of 10. At the pita place in Taipei, the man pulled a boy named Spencer by the elbow to our table to take our order. Later Spencer burned his hand and was made to sit in time-out at the next table with his hand a glass of ice water. The world goes by too fast on the bullet train while I sleep. We drank a six pack and watched Golden Girls. The monkeys surrounded us, looked at us each in the eye while they bumped cookies. I’ve lost the ability to shoot a basketball. I swam laps in the rain. We sat and drank for hours behind the little door that spins. A porcelain owl whistle. A new notebook for drawing people’s faces. I’m sorry, but the New Buffaloes have since doubled in price. We found a restaurant that serves soups in little toilet bowls, and chocolate soft-serve in little toilet bowls, and decided instead to eat just a different kind of crap. We can never smell the smell out of anything. My body smells different. My days are a search for a thing I’d never sacrifice that I’d need to sacrifice. Fake money is burning in the streets. Fruit is rotting in the sun in the temple. I waited patiently until I got to the spot at the perfect top of the ferris wheel then I let my wishes fly like mad bats.