bouncing back and forth between

Bouncing Back and Forth Between

Have you ever noticed that this town has no streetlights that work?

A small dying mining town set in the cradle of a steep box canyon.

The people around her look at the same world, but they don't see

the beginning of a new generation, and spoiled mercilessly.

The priest was embarrassed of his own desire and fearful of it.

She embarrassed easily and, when driven to exclamation, would not

launch into a directive about backbone and the poor and the superiority of

text for seduction and accessibility.

The only possible paths were two runnels in the snow that curled

into the contaminated swimming pool and slowly sank.

The wheels measured their revolution.

Now that it's superfluous, the sun has emerged and attached

a difficult makeshift path in the hazy light of dawn.

What remained of her seemed to grow transparent, like a

brick courthouse warted by a concrete addition.

Illness provided ideal freedom for fickle browsing.

Besides shared subject matter, the crossover is formal.