aback

to whom it may concern,

i thought of something the other morning and mourned it as long lost. then as magic does every so often delight it came out of no where. holy mackerel. i felt the virgin river running cold under foot, saw dark canyon walls closing in, my truck's window smashed, long stretches of nothingness only Nevada, of course, could bring, avacados and budweiser for breakfast, and all the laughing i almost went deaf. in the middle of my kitchen, in cambridge, i swear i could smell the sage...which reminded me a wise man once said "one should only ever hide for half of forever." nah jus kiddin, i just made that up.