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the sky feels like the season is turning. i got a sweater. baby spider.

i always drive down huntington past the fire station at monterey pass road, where ten or 15 years ago there was a brutal murder, where some guy with a shotgun followed two girls out of a party in boyle heights and shot them to death in front of the fire station because it was said they broke the mirror on his car. he chased them down and shot them one after the other screaming in the street in front of the station. i mentioned it at the time when i got to school and a student said that one of them was his aunt.

on the way to work this morning though i was thinking about the earth, about the earth underneath the old railroad bed, under the parking lots and office buildings, under the warehouses and the houses, does it love us? does it feel us? is it listening? is it waiting for us to listen?

maybe these are questions for plants.

a big raven landed atop the streetlamp on the slope where huntington turns into soto as i drove underneath. i thought it was a hawk but it was a big raven. i thought there might be another smaller bird next to it but i was going fast and over the hill by then.

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