Ludlow, Colorado. A place where a neglected world is rich with scoundrels, where the world strives for forgetfulness. This landscape is a metaphor for discarded histories too inconvenient for memory. Our planet is strewn with ruins, monuments to villainy on the side of highways lacking off-ramps. Out here among the prairie dogs and coyote there is no fear of the impact the return of the dead will have on one’s fellow worker. It’s one long retirement one season after the next along the railroad tracks traveling between Walsenburg prison and Trinidad, “the sex change capital of the world.” Scorn, urgency, and grief grow in the wild field where the good fight is a “lost adventure of god.” Hours hold together empty and mysterious time. The dozing ghosts of Rockefeller’s goons rest in the shade of the watertower.