TEIGNMOUTH

Jeb said he’d bought the trailer because it reminded him of an ice cream sandwich. Life would be sweeter, he reckoned. First time he saw it was atop a cliff just outside Teignmouth in Devon, just down from the golf course. A For Sale Sign propped all faded in its window. The wind snapped at the awning, even rolled up tight as a cigar. Jeb paid to have it shipped to Newfoundland, middle of 1500 containers stuffed with wooden toothpicks and cheap plastic umbrellas, four lime-green Lambos still pitted with desert sand. Drove that old tank to Ontario and lived back from the road in the long grass and granite slowbakes north of Elgin. Contracted lyme, met a girl, lost a girl, lyme again, pretty much tamed a fox and pulled in a woozy cable signal with an aluminum aerial that reached nearly into space. Thought he’d never had it so good, that last year Trebek fronted Jeopardy, same summer the doc called with the shit news about his lung.