Once upon a time,

everyone had a different life. 
Almost every house had the same 
shade of green for paint; 
and shutters of brown. 
Stones packed themselves 
into the sides of hills 
to hold up what might wash 
away in the rain. Even then
we had some inkling of change, 
though not how it would come 
or what it would take. One 
morning, we woke to find
rowboats shored up 
in the front yard. Years 
later, someone said 
You move away, but 
the subject 
always remains.
 

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