First Day of Work

I got to work thinking about police cars; I got home thinking about sheep.

The flames of the celestial battlefield remained on the horizon, declaring the day’s imminent victory. Before the white wall, police cars were dark pieces of night, deserters of a lost war. They filled the whole right edge of the extensive patio leading to CORE, parked at near right-angles, skewed toward the exit as if yearning to depart. In the past, I’d say they looked thirsty for combat; now, they were just homesick. Only I seemed to want to be there, since I came from the opposite way. But that was just an impression.

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