He sees the world through the maw of his T-Rex costume like Plato inside his cave used sometimes to peek outside. Fangs standing for stalactites and stalagmites frame his view. It is actually the US 31 he sees. Only his forearms jut out of the costume’s body because Tyrannosaurus had such short hands. It is a thick fabric so the outfit is OK from October to early April. There are stages when living in a costume, like there are stages to living with grief. He’s not sure which step he’s at right now. The shorter arms still allow for simple functions to be performed, such as holding balloons, or waving little flags. The tail makes it hard to sit, but when you do and take off the headpiece and have a smoke people take you seriously because you’re a worker with hair sweat-pasted to the forehead. You’ve got the aura of a Detroit saint in a car assembly line. You’re all right. You put the headpiece back on and pace up and down the highway again and wish so many things, and then you gradually learn to wish better. You wish leaner, wiser, you wish almost mundane.