Bus stop in Arcata

I remember getting off at the station
smelling the dank marshy air and taking a look at the town
from the inclined street
and being approached by a beautiful woman.

“I’m just here making sure all of my babies are OK.”

“Your babies?”
I should have known.

“My children. My loves.
You are all OK. OK?
Good, good. My babies! My precious loves!
Checking up on you all…”

With a twirl, and a smile,
she was gone.

That night I slept in an old cavity
of a redwood.


3 thoughts on “Bus stop in Arcata

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