In A Field Of Geese, I Lay Down My Soul

I have no idea why he cries.

This morning I helped a neighbor to move into another apartment unit in our building. Afterwards. I got on my bicycle and rode to the cemetery to check on the flowers. I watered my parents, and my Aunts, and Mrs. Pachecos, and Mr. and Mrs. Marques, and three other peoples. Including the geraniums planted at a grave of a woman who died in her early twenties. I met her mum a few months ago and promised to water them each time I came. I then sat down on a bench, and tried contemplating what to do about a problem I am faced with. But nothing came of the attempt, so I rode to the park and laid on the grass with a bunch of geese instead. I then went and visited another cemetery. This one belongs to the Presbyterians. There is a very large oak tree there, that I would venture to guess has been alive since the 1800s. I stopped then at the optometrists, and the Comic Book Store, before checking in with the crying man at the Fresh Mart. I have no idea why he cries.

There is a very large oak tree there, that I would venture to guess has been alive since the 1800s

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