Sometimes you read such a good poetry collection that you wish you could pull specific fragments and words from it and form a necklace out of them that you'd wear daily, proudly showing it off to everyone on the street so that they, too, can run and read it from curiosity. May has exceeded his own magic and magnificence in this collection, and poems like "As the Saying Goes", "The Gun Joke", "Little Design", and "To Detroiters I Too May Have Called By the Wrong Names" are the perfect example of this. Each poem is quotable and memorable, the writing light, engaging, with a natural rhythm to it that is easy to get lost in. Finishing it was very much like waking up on a cold December morning and loathing the fact that you have to get out of the warm bed and go to work. It's just too good to put down.
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