novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- in the new country i like to think of my new neighborhood as densely populated by tiny wooden castles. that victorian turret. the lawn moat, a baby standing guard at one end like a stubby sentinel. his father stoops down and pulls him into the air. there are abandoned grocery carts clustered at one corner, outside the grayest castle, the one with the thudding windows. at night the cats emerge, their yellow eyes shining through the dark like amber stars. they never let me pet them. 5:30 pm - 05.29.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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