From "the Bouquet"


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Whether the outer stretches of

Southern Iowa, the city streets at night, or

the daytime sidewalks of footsteps and

noise, for years she searched in thought

and sight for the commonality, searching,

searching for a word a phrase, an accurate

way to describe to define it all.

What is the common ground the

word to describe that which is vast wide

and uninhabited as well as that which is

populated yet still missing something,

something important, essential, yet in some

odd way seeming as empty as the places

which have no human element at all?

Searching, searching for the right

word, the word came: desolate.

Perhaps it would sound strange both

to those so familiar with the emptiness as

to think it normal and the outsider who has

never seen it at all, how empty how

desolate even a crowded city can be, this

place unlike any other experienced before,

this place where human beings are not

connected to one another.

The word in its accuracy rang like a

broken bell, one tarnished and left to its

decay, as if kicked aside and, invisible to

the masses in their drone of apathy, left to

freeze solid to the ground or blister in the

summer sun.

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