Out the window of the van I’ve been experimenting with tactile imagination. There is so much on its way past us, too much to see, to breathe in as distance. So I practice getting close to it from here. I am surprised. I can feel everything. I run my hand, as one tests a knife, over the point of a steel star hanging in a junkyard. I navigate the shrubbery, treading carefully on collapsible dirt and looking down, for snakes. My feet struggle to find a sure hold clambering over freshly chopped logs. I’ve always heard that taste and smell are the thick stuff of memory, but maybe imagination is fiercely kinetic.