published in Volume 1, Issue 1 on January 15th, 1994
The Sprite(tm) can waits, in faithful ignorance of abandonment. It remembers your lips ** "He was here, I tell you - the ashtray told me so..." And so it goes. Ashes to ashes. Presence to dust. ** The cliche of lipstick on a plastic straw, with a side of fries. A table for one, tonight.