Skunk: Here is what it is.
His Uncle Jesus listens again to this prayer, unequivocal
over the whiskey’s own roaring expletive, each of its words delivered with the lucidity
and precise focus of oncoming inebriation.
Skunk: It’s that I am unable, in this moment now, right
now, to access what I need to access. I lack that ability to retrieve what I
know from past experience will be the outcome of these actions and project it
forward, or backward if you will, to when it would to me be of most benefit.
