When Earl was five, he dreamed Cincinnati was inside a sea monster's stomach. Street cars drove over hard old bones. The shallow gray sky arced over everything. It was the inside of the monster's skin. If he could poke through the other side he would find scales and sea weed. On the inside there was only partially digested fish and ribs and Cincinnati. Earl wanted to claw his way out to see the salty iridescent surface of the monster's scales. He spent his nights chewing at the gray sky and getting no where. He woke up with his spit all over the sheets.