Monday of my life.
Cars rolling down Bakeoven Road.
Colder than the previous.
Sheep were the factor.
All that's in my head gets wasted.
Forgotten tea bag on the sink.
Speculating does not help.
What returns will longingly return.
Hanging there on the Warm Springs
Huge rippling white cloud.
At noon the siren just like in Nome.
The whistle just like in Schurz, Missoula, Reno, Roseburg, Sutherlin, Eugene.
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