The ragweed pollen woke me at four AM, like it does every late-August morning. I had been dreaming about a man who had wall-to-wall bookcases. The spine of every book was exactly the same width and they were all art books. The man wore my dog's red cloth bowl on his head like a hat.
The fan blew skunk scent in through the window. I got up, fed my dog, and watched the brightening cobalt sky.
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