The detective held up as a man in control, unafraid of unraveling the most incestuous of webs. Six white horses fell in the mud! I looked forward to killing the capons, I really did.
We are no longer a family farm. A friend of my father's came over for spaghetti and left his copy of Bob Dylan's Planet Waves, I guess that was the first. At night you could hear the river like wind in the trees.
Traveling was okay, you were always between. Hansel and Gretel, understood at last as a cautionary tale for adults who have issues with longing. A shower of gold leaves but no wind.
One should sit when removing their belt. I wondered at a world in which the broad mirror over my parent's dresser could also function as a door. We shot but never cleaned our guns.
Lyn next door painted my sisters but not me. Bon Scott had been dead a year when I started listening to AC/DC. He favored certain pronouns as who in that age didn't.
This priest when he gets going on injustice is something else. I was affected by many losses, an inflection that remains. You could enter the forest by two paths, one for hunting and one for picnics.
Against a purpling horizon a warm body. Those long walks meant the world to both of us, right?
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