something feels as though it is at unease because it has not settled.

the truck is gone. the truck is scrap. (just that one half of the bumper, just that license plate from Big… everything else is gone.

before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in cod and beer almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s

some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,

sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.

After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.

everyone sees the red-torn deer ca… the mess made dragging her to be shouldered, everyone gawks and shifts the weight of

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in… almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s just too easy

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,

jump in the truck, and disappear in moments measured in rust, that flakes off in the friction of…

the best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass

we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket