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I thought about everyone all over.
I thought about the bikers and the junkies in hidden apartments.
I thought about the movie theater dwellers and the homewreckers.
I thought about Tommy.
I thought about the sky divers and construction workers.
I thought about Jermaine and Sosa and Matchbox.
I thought about architects and prophets.
I thought about Trevor and his cows.
I thought about the teachers and the clowns, the tightrope walkers.
I thought about Cole and Mario and his pizza shop.
I thought about Saul and the bartenders.
I thought about Sal and his two sons and the hunters.
I thought about the hardware shop owners and the grocery clerks.
I thought about Frank and Charlene.
I thought about the writers and the artists.
I thought about the businessmen and plumbers.
I thought about the drug dealers and the office janitors.
I thought about Kassy.
I thought about the carpenters and Jesus.
I thought about Jesus.
I thought about how God was in every one of us and how we were all a transforming body.
I thought about love.
Grandma Ruby and Grandpa Bill.
I thought about God and his creation.
I thought about us.
I thought about Jenna Ollie at the park.
I thought about every last one of us, trying.
I thought about Johnston and the families.
I thought about Scotty.
All the generations of Midwest America.
I thought about the farmers and the crop.
I thought about Ben and the military.
I thought about Cameron.
I thought about fathers and their sons.
I thought about Nancy.
I thought about Jeff and the gas station workers.
I thought about all the acid and mushroom trippers.
Pat the guitar player.
I thought about men and women.
Deangelo and Lyla.
Casey and Dalton.
I thought about the lumberman and the miner.
The clocksmith and the shoeshiner.
The chef and the waiter.
I thought about Jesus the carpenter.
I thought about Jesus.
I thought about Priest Charles and Doctor Clark.
I thought about how God was in every one of us.
I thought about my father.
My father.
My father.
I thought about the belly of the beast.
I thought about that kid Connor.
I thought about Rose and true love.
I thought about everyone.
The saints and the gamblers.
Amy and John Miller.
The painters and the laundromat owners.
The soldiers and the skaters.
The alley dwellers.
The surfers.
I thought about Prince and his father.
I thought of Leon and Mo.
I thought of Rose and her mother.
I thought of Ma.
My mother.
I thought of revelation.
I thought of red lights blinking on tall buildings.
I thought of humans as ants beneath the vast empire.
I thought of California and the coast.
Arizona and the desert.
Soft and hard beds.
I thought of one hundred million windows.
I thought of garbage men and strippers.
I thought of chiropractors and insurance workers.
I thought of Jesus the carpenter.
I thought of God.
I thought of Johnston, and how the whole entire universe is in a penny.
So why not in the heart of smalltown people? Johnston, your streets are pulsing.
Bleeding from the cracks.
Beneath, your heart is pounding.
You are always coming back.
Johnston.
I love you.
Yes, I feel you even now.
Your homes are filled with the real people of the Earth, they are walking, one by one.
Two of their kind.
Hand in hand.