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  • After big deals like Venus in Transit
    I have strange imaginings, nonsensical, not quite dreams not quite not.
    Take last night:
    A tiny girl walking across an endless cloud
    A one-armed man riding a motorcycle through a red light
    A merry-go-round horse galloping round and round the back of a pick-up
    And the evening sky blushing inside an old house while darkness limps down the sidewalk.

    It’s as though the whole world shifts for a moment
    To make room
    To shake free
    To tumble out
    Other sorts of crossings.
    Solo sailings.
    Effect do-si-dos with cause
    And Lucinda Williams sings
    How would scars find skin
    To etch themselves into
    How would broken find the bones.


    It’s always like this.

    And the next day—take today—
    The walking girl, the man on the motorcycle, the pink sky
    Collect themselves
    Fold back into the big picture
    And disappear.
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