Thursday, April 24, 2008

Horses grazing on short, green grass
Fog all around, dewdrops holding on to any surfaces they can find
A wide path running through the middle, turning sharply to the right
Something scurries along that path, a small creature
My body lying in a dry riverbed. On the stones. Face down. Have a white shirt on. It doesn't move. Seems dead. RIP

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