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It’s not flowers.
Not coasters.
Not herb gardens.

Though you do find yourself telling people that’s all down hill.
What do you mean?
You know that part on the roller coaster where it’s going up and then it goes CLICK, and then CLICK, CLICK, CLICK and it rises to the very zenith and you look to your right and you see the whole park! Ferris Wheel, Sky Coaster, Boomerang, that other one where you sit in a chair and it swings and rises to the sky. Then you look to your left and you see the parking lot.
Yeah.
You’re going to the parking lot.

It’s not that bad.
I was making
the bed yesterday.
We had been camping on the beach.
Everything, everywhere sand.
As I putting on the annoying one; that first one; the one that you can’t fold properly unless you’ve read Williams Sonoma on that trip to Mexico you took in your late thirties while you were passing the time waiting for first Margarita (salt, rocks). Unless you read that, you fold this sheet like shit.
I putting that sheet on the bed and thought
What if it’s great.
What if it’s not a parking lot.
A resting area.
A place where nothing happens except people come and go.
What if it’s just the beginning.

Is this what people tell themselves, or is it true?
Would we want to know?
Is it better left up to chance?

I made that bed damn good. I did both beds.
I got help from my wife.
My son jumped on it when it was all folded and even.

Then, together, we left the parking lot.

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