February 7, 2014
As I ride south I watch an old black sign. I ride by time after time. Something was painted over. It sits blank for months–maybe years. Leaves blow by on the cold wind.
I wanted it to speak again–life on a dormant sign. Cats come back. We miss you. I forgot the crazy things you said. I pick up the phone and call. Come back. It is time to make a Cat Call.
– kyle
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