Sad lights and baseball and down in the denver night all I did was die.

The darkest purple and uneasy, hurried clouds crept over the sky.

Two stout cans of beans resting by the fireside, heating for dinner.

Long casual walks by the river reminded him of why he'd moved.

Permanent wrinkles plagued the old womans aged hands from years of washing.

two golden fishes, sleeping under the cool rocks too deep to be woke.

He learned the hard way, gambling on the river is no way to live.