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  • If by the middle of your life you indicate center, that interests me vis a vis the love and relevance of children and also how rapture might arrive unannounced and unassuming such as this morning at the bank when I believed mightily that a heavily helmeted motorcycle rider was my friend because I had followed him into town the previous morning, not passing when his bike slowed on the steeper portions of road. I knew him and his metal panniers, the left with a sticker that says, “bite me.” I was alone in the car, feeling blank without the small movements and sometimes speech, adjusting of earbuds and ipods, of kids , breathing. I put down my window to put my checks in the tube. “Hey! It smells smoky out there,” I said to the guy on the motorcycle. “Something’s Burning,” he said back. And this acknowledgement is central, like the middle of things, a life, and a person can speak in the morning to something or another person at the bank, a third or less familiar, in the center drive of the drive-through in the middle of morning and life.
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