Dear Wigleaf,

The west coast is just as you said: the sun a skipping record above freeways. There's a port at the end of our street where ships pass rumors between gantry cranes. Every photograph arrives golden. Outside, a rusted ice cream truck plays "Home on the Range."


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Read AF's story, "Man Found Dead in Graveyard."

w i g · l e a F               01-21-11                                [home]