"You look down and see mud where the post office
used to be. Your hat is made of hammers but you
are not afraid. You look to the east where the advent
calendar hangs. Just beside the mountain range you
hear a pack of wolves entering a deep sleep. This is
where I was last year, you think. Except last year
never happened and tomorrow is a bowl of oranges."
- From “The State of Utah Is Shaped Like a Glove,” a poem by Alina Gregorian (via bostonreview)