augury doggerel

Thursday, July 24, 2003


The bus to work is an old Ikarus 280, an articulated Hungarian joined in the middle with a sphincter of sagging black rubber. It just climbs the hill through the woods. In the middle, where the driver has ground the gears all the way down and the bus moves like a funicular, you are almost walking. There's a small road here leading off to the left through the tall dark trees, a sign to the sanctuary for expectant mothers.


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