• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 11
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In the Rear View Mirror

What is this? the con
figuration is un
familiar, the architect un
known, the weather,
as always, un
predictable. Orange
sleeve rock and from
what direction, what un
imagined far away
destination came this
missive, the one with
no map, no in
dication of origin or
journey’s end? Perhaps
it’s a treasure
hunt, an in
vitation to show up
and then disappear.
All these hints
at culmination and in
tersections left dangling un
threaded disintegrating
like my thoughts,
the ones that missed
the boat. Bananas?
I turn around
and then around a
gain. Can fruit laugh?
I thought I heard someone
call my name.