We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the

Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as

You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,

The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view

A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *

Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.

There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way

What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…

“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.

Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have

With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—

If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response