Gold Dust City, Part 2 (River Banks)

Back in the fields I duck under the rising flowers, my face is painted with cuts. I would love to build a summer of huts, to live with a beating heart, the only one I left behind. I wait for the shimmer, of eyes, of the glimmer they make when I’m lost underfoot. I wrap my arms wide around rough gator hide and we sail and we snake through each river, lake, and canals, all alive with you. Your trail is getting cool. In my mind I am a fool.

Alive and kicking!

After a short delay due to unforeseen circumstances, Issue 003 is up and ready for you, our readers!

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