We took a different road home last night. there was a mountain, just one, and behind the mountain was a lake, ice-reflecting the setting sun. just next to the lake was a cemetary. thin, beaten old gravestones that had probably been lined up along the hill before the first settlers arrived.

What is the note that you wrote on your skin today.

Yes I keep meaning to say that the new soapdish and I are getting along famously.