this log
is approaching its tenth anniversary but i know better than to expect
diamonds. or tin. i expect only a neck cramp from repeated
lengthy stares in the direction behind me.
why are brake lights more alluring than the unknown, unspoiled white of
high beams? it seems counterintutitive
until you realize one basic tennet of human nature: familiarity trumps the
unknown. a memory in the hand is worth
two in the bush. i only hope i can continue
to look backwards in five years at the bloody shadowed light cast on today with
fondness.
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