augury doggerel

Wednesday, July 24, 2002


I walked past the cemetery early Sunday morning when the church bells were banging and counted six flower stands, seven sellers of candles in colored glass, four stonecutters, and many holes between the paving stones where ants had shoved up from below. Wax and weed and noise and dirt and stone. Still, a rooster was up and scratching his balls and chortling about the night before, and magpies were firing into the air. I led two old snails to the other side of the road and turned a coin in my pocket. That's good enough.


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