I've made a map of/in my dreams, a place I've been many times now: a sullen road on a mountain cliff, a bank of stores on a soft turn down, taffy and popcorn, baseball hats. Down the road, the moss overtakes the brown on the seaside, but look up to the right, where the ascending hill should be, up is blank.
Farther up the road, uphill, is a campsite where an impending sense of doom resides. I feel anxious i/o/n this landscape, and at home.
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