Portland, Oregon, late October 2020 Across my street, the temporary chainlink fence still in place around the PacWest Building, the bus stop empty except
Sometimes when I go to get him he’s asleep, among the papered walls of azure and emerald hot-air balloons. His wild engines still silent,
Two cars, parked side by side, tick as they cool: the easy, summer banter of metals. Woods consider creaking and splintering wrenching—even devastating—soul-talk. While