The fog is abating and T. can see to the HOLLYWOOD sign. He can also make out
the middle dome and white exterior of the observatory
Fences: between him and the alley, between him and the church, between
the alley and the church
Top view: a clumsy conjunction
In a corner of the church parking lot, on new asphalt: Saint Columban
In the alley is a niche (within inches it’s niche: wire diamonds: saint) celebrating the profane:
beige-painted cinderblocks with miasmic scrawl (black, cupreous, white)
On T.’s side sits a random, knowing cat
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