Sparks, Nevada

Sick for my father. Dusted urban parks and wintered school yards remind me of him, of childhood.
The sun is bright and close but cold. It can warm me if I sit on just the right park bench.
Unreal mountain land dreams terrible dreams. Staying in a giant casino world with lights flashing always and music playing everywhere and a bar around each corner. And all of it lost in the 1950s and 60s.
Dreaming last night that my father died. We were driving on a twisting river road of gravel where the speed limit was 35 mph but he was going 75 mph, he went over a cliff as I told him to slow down. I jumped out of the window and landed in trees but he died at the bottom. Terrible hotel bed dreams.

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