This is a picture I did not take
of a large black man in a small white t-shirt and black pants, walking out
of the fog swirling around the top of Twin Peaks, walking the yellow
centerline in the middle of the road because there's no traffic this early
on a Sunday morning, walking downhill with his arms twisted behind his
back and resting on a golf club held high on his shoulders like some kind
of yoke, a toothpick splintered between his teeth.