we must have been indigenous once. could we be now? could we remember how? i saw the giant black crane extended, the concrete words still lying on flatbeds on the ground. no movement, yet, everything is poised. in the distance the cloud factory pumping out clouds and an eternal flame emits from a tube and a flag of some renegade country waves resolutely. we saw phantom thread again last night. mom said rusty was under the bed and wouldn't come out and her brain was fried.