Wednesday, December 26, 2012

return to sender

I wonder if he realizes what a labyrinth he is. I actually wonder this. I sit in my mother's house next to the window that looks out to a church I abandoned years ago and wonder. His purity is unmarked; I wish he knew that.

The snow continues to fall, covering up the tracks we left on the path earlier this year.

(I will leave this in a nearly empty wine bottle. Look for it or else it will look for you.)

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