Our treasure is sunk. Formerly breathtaking, we were amazed, once, at all the money. We thought it ours, Oyster Harbor, Eelfleet, Burningseed McMansions shuttered, careers punctured, a sullen style still deferred!

I’ll speak for many. We lost sight of bowls of irony and riches and a lighter time, reduced to our surface (essence), the chilled gimmick of our inner teen vegetarian vampirism. Well, half-vegetarian — we drink only discounted blood of nonhumans for the moment, ha ha, since we’ve gone through some bucks, and since the lovers among us hanker to appear manly and acceptable to a widening, treasured demographic, prurient moms and their frenzied daughters and sons. For all of them, we won’t make it harsh, except when holding them out of reach from other vampires.