Sonoma Grove

Sonoma Grove, a letter to Bruce

Hey, Bruce—

At the park where we grew up, steeply sloping, there are electric eels in the A-frame. No, Bruce, I have not seen them. Like you, I do not go back there anymore.

The stone casters tell me, There are ells in the utility sink by the back doors in the A-frame. We should probably send someone out there. It’s all surrounded by city now. State Farms, Circle K’s and Vapor shops.

Bruce, if the stones say we should send someone go too. You are good with three-dimensional thinking and aquatic life; the scantron forms senior year said so. Remember Mr. Anus told you to become a zoologist or a florist because one gets to work with killer whales and the other is a front for wholesale assassinations. He said that’s who got Martin Luther King and Reagan.

There are electric eels in the A-frame. And the fence around the park has grown taller. And the new owners separated the older poor trailers at the back, from the newer vacation modular homes up front. I guess those people need quicker access to the onramps and drive-thrus?

Bruce, this is not going to get any easier. Maybe we should let the eels have the day.

Truly,
P.K. Ripper •


K. Shawn Edgar | Fish Wife | Salad Slayer | Poet

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