on my left, the suburbs roll over the hillsides. On my right, the river rolls a path through the hillsides. In between this single block of concrete says “tescorow” like a tiny grave.

i did what conjuring i could and didn’t find much, but i suspect the humble soul that came to me was a dog. on this borderline between the city and the wild, an animal sleeps away the centuries.

not far away, a grapevine grows wild. the grapes taste so sweet after all this rain.

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