Tuesday, 22 January 2013

train station in antelope, sk

autographs, dried purple crocuses in
between years of people preserved
with hand-written gestures. the pencil-crayoned
face of a woman opposite a rhyme
offering advice and the intrusive scrawl of her
four-year-old son on the
blank page twenty years later (his older
brother will outlive him). mysterious,
a book before photo albums, leather bound
and carried with a diary of weather, relentless,
the woman i’ve only met in home
video, a passage lost to the dead and
Ella, under these circumstances,
my heart breaks for you.
Your P.N.S.  friend, Teddy.

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