The white stuff has thawed and turned to dark and to mud. It holds our footprints when we stand too long and it slides under our weight when we run and cut our patterns.

It is not so stable as our hearts.

Also, we have this new oblong ball which, so long as it stays here, can only aspire to be a flattened and floppy piece of brown plastic.

This work by David Olimpio is licensed under a
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