MT. TABOR
Hounding the present with a grasp of
the past, that's all that's in it for me. I
have a sun-garden, and there I'll be. The
gentlemen can park their cars and leave
their coats. They can send their women
wherever they'd like, and leave their
wants and desires too. Climbing the
ladders to the inner loft is not so much
an easy task.
-
Once I climbed a crooked hill. Mt. Tabor
was the name. A Methodist town, I think
it was, that closed itself up and often enough.
Som church hall stuff, and a performance
center for run-down performers. I'd guess.
We walked around - an old fire station,
and some sort of water tower at the top.
A man was doing his gardening, as we
stopped to talk. He showed us around,
and answered our few questions of the
sunny afternoon.
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