Beside a brick building, where a fence is threaded through and getting strangled, on the east side of a gray garage between two telephone poles. You’re headed the right direction when you pass the stump inside the curving path and a low-spreading catalpa tree.




When we came back from hiding it, he said I wonder if anyone’s found it yet.
I imagine it will be there for years and years, wedged between the wire fence and thick grapevine, close to the ground. But he imagines lots of book scavengers, just like him.
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