AGAIN
'Black treadless tires in an ocean of gloom' - I don't
know why I wanted to say that, but I always did and
just did. And so now I'm still alone and the rotting riverbank
is here infested with steel and chains and wire. Some sucker's
broken apple cart and a 1940's lamp, things piled askew; a
local town heap where people throw junk. It's not like that
any more, and I realize now it cannot be. I've travelled time
again; rolled backwards some into another lamp of memory's
pale light. My God, but I remember everything so well.
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