Alaska postcard

Everything edged and shine glinting, the cold the impossibly transparent light the horizon and then the horizon of being that ahead seeing into something else that could be. Last here in the tenacious day hours of summertime, now Alaska shows hints of argent ferocity without menace or duplicity, a pure kind of ability to devour.

Standing in a Wasilla stripmall store with the word “Espresso” above the door. It has that, but also an indoor yard sale with VCR’s and glazed green flower detail vases and 1950’s cookbooks and ugly checked aprons. It’s maybe a computer or television repair shop, too, but maybe not.

Fingers ache then sting while adjusting the contact points on the loaner Pugs. 9pm and still light, that’s a mercy, frost sticky groan through a minute long test ride, it’s a bicycle, it works.

Snowfall marbleblock starless darkness quiet, in an outhouse thinking that they are a fine idea.

I’ll sleep hours hours in contact, present.