Demon Copperhead

by Barbara Kingsolver

Big clown, built like a brick shithouse, boldness of a bull in rut. Brain of a deer tick, but that’s not something to hold against a running back.

was born to wish for more than I can have.

Everybody warns about bad influences, but it’s these things already inside you that are going to take you down.

Some people never want like that, no reaching for the bottle, the needle, the dangerous pretty face, all the wrong stars.

ended up all over everywhere, sticking to your shoes or the backs of your hands, like a baby eating Cheerios.