The first thing I see this morning:
photo of a graveyard.
Two stones stand out
more clearly than the others. On one,
the word “Berry.”
On the other, “Father.” I tell myself
it’s a portent of how
the day will go, that this is how
today is going to be:
random messages, written in stone,
any meaning to be drawn forth
by the viewer who right now
is seeing one sweet word,
one less so, and nodding his head.
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