Professing * Reflecting

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Farms in Arizona

Farms in Arizona? Did I ask that question before, during, or after the dream? I found her, that was certain. My mother waiting in a 1960s car, in 1960s clothes. (How Freudian. How Atwood.) Her, there, waiting--hat, patent leather bag, white gloves--waiting in antiquated, animated impatience. But I was there and I could drive her through the gate. But I had to open that gate, that gate that kept closing. And it was hot, the end of a summer day, sun low over the fields. Farms in Arizona?



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