sonar might detect yellowish dust of time

the blood penguin might emerge from a fulvous cloud

a girl might return to retrieve, stuff, there’s a bag

the windows might go opaque, hard to drive the house with the blinds closed

the house has come a long way down nightmarish highways of limited visibility, like a bug

the house may be opened with a card, you may

then there is a lot of breathing going on

a lot of heart beating

clumps of foliage by the road side, in stray towns of the past

populated by windows underwater, hardening spines like fishes eyes

you have tested the light switch so you might know

provisional restaurant (now closed), post office (closed), motel (dark)

you understand without trying

 

 

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