January 14,2017

january-142017The chenille blanket looks a bit worn, as though it’s been through the washer and dryer a few times and is coming apart at the seams where it has been stretched to cover another half mile. Evading the creep of the suffocating coverlet, the tiny crib seems to be peddling backwards, to the safety of the clear blue waters, inching toward the curve of the earth, perhaps to spill over the edge, like a barrel over Niagara.

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