(Untitled)

[townsfolk]

Playing with sticks at the cat cemetery, greenery lush and inviting, cat ghosts weaving between legs as light comes through the tall redwoods, four women become one beetle in the shade. Milkshakes and plans for the boardwalk, beers on the Lost Boys Bridge, us with our legs over the edge, the Godfather laying on the tracks, repeating, "I may be a

Comments

[thesea]

always love your words.