A planet spins on the edge of our solar system. It is remembered in folklore. As the planet X, slipping near the earth on its way passed the sun. Bringing death and destruction. It is the apocalypse. The end of days. Its real name is Jack
Frank Sinatra. Standing outside on his front lawn. Dressed in a suit. With a fedora. Looking up at the star lit sky. There’s a blond over in the corner of the lot. Sitting in a lounge chair. Drinking a daiquiri. And Frank saying what a nice evening it is. And the blond responds. What’s that supposed to mean.
A book about a philosopher. Spelled with an ‘f’ in the new world. His thoughts. On the planet jack. Which is the inside of his head.