How I loved the sweet knockabout of life,
bruised by contingency on all sides, I found myself drawn down the bright play
of trackless circumstance, I followed Triano with my brakedrum in hand down the
shortcut path through the old cedars to the back stalls of Riebe’s, sunlight
glinting on crescent wrenches, what day was it? how would it all turn out? I loved the sure clank of metals more than
music, mystery malfunctions cussed and discussed, all on one hot August
afternoon, blue doors to nowhere, zigzag paths to the neighborhoods above the
cracked retaining walls, no immunity anywhere, time and eternity are one.
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