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August, 2003

We rode from the river into nothing, fade out fog.
I kept entering this building through the baby yoga animal classes, tiny creatures stretching. I always startled them on my way to the octagon building with the maze of doorways with dark curtains, preparing for Halloween. It was a grocery store, under renovation.

He had a huge list of friends, branches of a delicate, dried weed, with little berries, small & shriveled.




© 2003 by the respective poets