today the fall arrived swooping down with cold cold air and a 7 am wake-up call. i slammed the door then jerked on her leash too hard rounding a chicken-bone studded corner. later, after dreaming of a road that rests on a country stream drifting downward, i had eggs and toast in the academy diner. the fall wasn't glistening in the diner, it was just resting there, smirking and/or smiling. when i feel like i'm a cliff overlooking a change it never seems to be possible, these days, to gauge the drop. in the times, over greasy greasy turkey sausage, i read about vieques and thought of donia olga and her blue apartment by the sea.

Atlantic Yards Railway

To Do:

Lafayette in time

When I worked in the pumpkin patch the train would cut through the field twice a day. Twisted backs, we would look up - me and the Kenyans - and signal the conductor who signaled back. On that train to anywhere, did he do that to other pumpkin pickers all day long? The Kenyans startled every time the car backfired and they came to my cabin at night for autumn-laden campfires by the creek. We were mostly timid and dying due to the movements that had led us to the patch. When the train wasn't dicing up the field, there were times when it was the only thing that could form my thoughts.

The Duck Huntress Version 1.0