A large cathedral-like place, and walking out of it as an acolyte. Cars on stilts.
My hometown elementary school (actually long torn down) preserved as a pioneer cottage complex, one woman’s job to maintain. I see jugs from oil changes kept in the attic among the jumbled wooden labyrinth — though I couldn’t explain their presence.
Tilting up a drink in a half-shell as part of a ceremony to allow women’s reproductive insight. Taking in a panorama I see, remembering the exact moment when I admit that I masturbated today. My Twitter friend KC Crowell has a look of slack-jawed surprise.