by Mitchell Nobis Karsten Würth after Buffalo Tom The first year, I walked a lot. Saturdays in sun, nightly when the kids finally fell asleep after screens. The black dog & I went miles, found the spots where the river winds its way around cul de sacs & oil slicks. People disappeared in new & old ways. I appeared under stars, satellites, Venus, tree buds generating, making positive space in the waiting air. The moon threw the sun’s reflection at midnight, trying to spotlight