by Austin Ames Cather
I’m lunging through the forest, grabbing at leaves and conifer-wind. There’s nobody chasing me and yet I run like a stray hound. Winding through the woods, I catch glimpses of marsupials and cheerleaders baying in the near distance. What are they doing? I cannot be sure. They seem to be surrounding themselves with strings of lights, shimmering like Christmas trees until they approach an utmost brilliance, near flame, and they immediately dismount into fields of bright solitude.
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