bus ride.

Why haven’t I traveled this way before?

The bus pulls out of a concrete parking garage, slowly works its way through the city, stops at a red light, idles down a busy street.

Slowly, as the bus wriggles free, the city breaks down into suburbs where people build around themselves more personal space, and in between everyone’s marked out territory, poke trees.

Slowly, the suburbs break down and nature reclaims her personal space. A tree grows sideways out of a steep hillside. A hawk circles the death of something. Maybe you or something that was you that is now broken down so that you soar.


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