What we know
You pan out a creekbed, guard each scrap of gold, find all the treasures that scrap offers1. When you turn to leave, you find that2 cold water has laughed out of your3 clutches, gold-pinks of sunrises4 on gravel have slipped5 from your pan. Nothing is complete6 complete.
Speculations
Your fingers run against the worn granite of the gravestone, almost touching
those who live their. And the names lead you on, for who was her lover, her father, her son? You speculate. credits|speculate.
You comb the broken walls, press the studs, touch the tarred-over newsprint for answers.
You find them. You know what they connect.
Write the answers you find in the empty spaces provided for the lovers, the
fathers, the sons. For Marble Springs stands barren without these answers.
Connections
