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April 20, 2002
I drop the can at stream's start, open end up to speed its transit over the graves of others like it. The tin body takes the hold of the ripples strains, directing it into course, narrowly getting caught by a dipped bush branch which it rebounded from to settle mid-drift to an unblemished still of slow mobility to react and rock rapidly over the rapids that sucked it through to the widened marina for tadpoles and guppies, spinning back end front, jostling into the underbrush of the hurrying curve, levee-bound. Pushed from the deluge, it continues down the narrows, disappearing.