The warmer sun across the road
was hot on my back.
I followed the creek, searching among the rocks
and incipient (or degraded) beaver dams
for Harvey's wallet.
It had happened to me
in dislocated times and places. (a question of identity?)
Washington DC, 1964, for instance.
Dallas (1968?)
when my missing money fell out of the book in the airport locker.
Germany when the money blew out of my pocket.
(riding the autobahn on a Honda)
Berkeley around 1979.
But there was nothing but rocks and water
in the creek.



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