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You take old,

I ’ll place a crown upon your curls,

All hail the Queen of the World!

-The Jayhawks

Right Here and NowRIGHT HERE AND NOW,as an old friend used to say,we are in the fluid present,where clear-sightedness never guarantees perfect vision Here:about two hundred feet,the height of a gliding eagle,above Wisconsin’s far western edge,where the vagaries of the Mississippi River declare a natural borderNow:an early Fridayin mid-July a few years into both a new century and a new millennium,their ard courses so hidden that a blindwhat lies ahead than you or IRight here and now,the hour is just past six am, and the sun stands low in the cloudless eastern sky,a fat,confi-dent yellohite ball advancing as ever for the first ti in its wake the steadily accu blind men of us all

Below,the early sun touches the river ’s wide,soft ripples with lints froton Northern Santa Fe Railroad running between the riverbank and the backs of the shabby two-story houses along County Road Oo,known as Nailhouse Row,the lowest point of the co uphill and eastward beneath usAt thisits breathThe motionless air around us carries such reine a round a mile away