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We rode in on a
train past storybook farms
(subjugated
landscape). Luckily caught a
minivan cab at King
St. Station, the driver
semi-retired just filling in for a friend. We
packed it to brimming: six big boxes and
as many bags, dozens of 5-pound sacks of
flour
for
Sarah
to
distribute as well as a liter of
bourbon, seal unbroken since Hopkins,
Minnesota.
A birthday celebration fixed that. We have a
6-shot
tray with bicycle bell attached to its handle
and I rang it.
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