one way out
mostly a quiet neighborhood
complete with a cat colony
and an underground network
of russian-speaking moles
I’d been here for years
over two decades to be imprecise
come to learn change
doesn’t necessarily taste any better
with a grain of salt
or dash of tabasco
one year the winds swept
most of the trees away
another canoes & kayaks
became the prevalent mode
of transportation
in one corner of the garage
laid out plans for jet propulsion
& kitty-corner from there
a pair of unrepaired angel wings
april two thousand twenty-four
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