Across from a bus stop, valentines are still on display. In tight white jeans and a sweater to match, a slim woman strides past them. I've seen her before. It summer in the Catskills. She was ten, I was eight. I chased her around a pond, until catching her, I tried for a kiss. She laughed, I frowned.

Into the woods is where the spirits lead us with unconscious movements toward  gnosis kardia. Can the city do this too? When the church's steeple disappeared inside a cloud, at the age of nine Dante attended a party where he met Beatrice, the hosts' eight-year-old daughter...the boy fell in love with her immediately. Their relationship seems to have been mainly at a distance, for a friend told me she has "a personal relationship with God," I laughed, she frowned.

   Bus stops.

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