seminary


Up the hill and to the left the kid said. On the kid’s head a helmet. Old and white. Walked a bike across the road and carried on.


The asphalt potholed and brindled. Late afternoon under a mixed canopy. In the distance, a backlit bridge. The warmest season finally here.


A periodic beeping. A gum-pink carpet. A never-ending generator. And a picture taken down a hallway, underexposed and eerily dim.


Inside the door a laminated sign. Don’t use towels to wipe off mascara. On the desk a boxed puzzle. “Sugar Creek Mill” 550 pieces.


An unmoving insect mashed into the grout. The sinks each with a soap dispenser. The showers each with a curtain. Less dust here than anticipated.


4+ refrigerators. All on. Some empty. The left-behinds of an unknown group.


For once, the sound of dishes clanking. Across the wall. Yesterday the first encounter with one of three people in the kitchen. Out in the parking lot, vacuuming a car’s trunk. Not much to say it seemed. Here for two maybe three years. Back when the place was up and running. Before it moved south down the coast.


Now, the hill view. Through the window in 138, a roll-down of grass, a stretch of unpatched blacktop, a wooden fence, a multi-windowed house, and countless acre-feet of water. Beyond, a spattering of homes amid trees. A land mass rising. The sky.


To walk out the second set of doors. Take a quick right and flank the building’s L-shaped wing. Cut across grass past the light post. Over the bridge and up the concrete steps. Across the bulb-strung patio set between the vacant library and the vacant admin block. Finally toward the open air and the bench with it’s back to the windows. Out there, the city. Clear on clear days. Fogged out otherwise. Postcard stuff.


Certain movies left behind. A prayer calendar left open to August 28th. “for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety” the last line. Psalm 4:6-8. Also read Revelation 21:23.


A cloth-petaled flower, unwilting. A grease battered stove. Lichen on the tree’s terminal branches. The roof less than steep and destined for demolition.