the sound of water.........(I live in the shadow of slowly leaching tailings ponds
rain................................where in the woods in another era,
out the window......................the miners carelessly tossed whiskey containers out the window.)
because I have never been there..... "Gweneth, a writer for the CyberCreek," I said.
warm milk......................"It's an online communications system for environmental activists."
exposing its rusted underbelly........ He looked away,
the daily in and out flow...............obviously not interested in hearing any more.
flannel sheets.................... brown grass on the hills... a flowered dress.............. a glass of beer................. sleep............................... low flying planes............. the smell of green grass.... warm sun......................... a red front door................ cold cereal........................ working............................ making things.................... a white shirt....................... making love...................... the children laughing.......... blue jeans......................... potato soup...................... his body............... the whitecapped mountains.............................. footprints.......................... unwashed windows........... a dark corner.................... the pine trees overhead...... walking............................. riding................................ the horizon........................

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