This neighborhood needs more trees to break the fall of light. And I need something to cushion me from the impact of the New Year's arrival. This crashed vehicle has no driver and no passengers.
I walk for hours, hoping the afternoon light will illuminate some meaning or purpose. There must be some reason for all this empty repetition.
Wait till the light begins to slant and people begin to run because they know something is falling over--and they don't know if it's falling toward them or away.
These are the curtained windows and closed doors behind which people disappear in the evening time. I don't know what they do in there. Hang new calendars, I guess. Ghosts climb out of empty swimming pools and belly through the dark grass. I climb into an empty pool and sit near the drain. And let my breath wander.