Now:

I walked home under a diamond sky hanging wishes on the stars, remembering South Dakota's miles of motorcycles and screaming pipes.

Then:

We crept along the trail past a marker that pointed one mile to the top of a mountain rising from Sturgis's smooth buffalo prairie. Wind tugged knotted scraps of cloth in the trees.

What are those? I asked.

Prayer satchels, he said. Relatives come and tie their wishes inside for the spirits to take.

With blades of scrub grass underfoot I let my wet hair dry in the sun, watching clouds cross a lemonade sky. A chubby girl traded her shirt for a ride with a guy, while I popped the back of my camera and threaded its film.

I stirred sugar into the heavy diner mug, stretching new chaps and sipping caffeine. Elbows on a cracked red Formica counter, I looked down the row of creased faces, gray hair combed with August wind.

Now again:

With abrupt joy moths fluttered in March's early warmth.

----------------

Bits n Pieces again:

Some things take little bits away,

others put little pieces back.

You could be good or bad to me, and we're even.