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He always said you’ve got to pump your nerve up if you’re going to live any place worth living. And his eyes would glint off across Dark Lake like late September sunlight. He’d give you to suppose there was treasure out there if you could find it. A rocky trail, he’d never tell you what the treasure was. Up to you to figure out, he might’ve said. Up to you to revise your map, your compass. Magnetic north, the pull of faith. The way he’s gone.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

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