You can walk from the 24-hour Donut Star to the library in your mind. You can walk past the refurbished scraps store again, if you like. If you wanted to.
There are girls lined-up, slouching against the pick-up truck in the Albertson's parking lot.
Past the lumber yards, the entrance to the State Highway. Buildings in hunches rise out in the distance when you drive away.
The ash of the former city is in the jackets of the men on the car lots, who wobble like the balloons above.
When you walk on the sidewalks in Jupiter, you leap, which can't be helped.
Occasionally the city animates your conversation. For instance, at the bus stop when the inquisitive elderly lady asks you where you are from. She is way too snoopy, but you answer her anyway, and you can't help it if you are gruff, aloof.
No one thinks about it anymore, it is just a town, really. Some people live there, and occasionally there is some horrific story on the late-night news, but who cares?
In the 60's, the malls teemed and the men wore brighter jackets. They looked like balloons and streamers.
Once, when you were a teenager, you decided to disobey the No Trespassing sign. Look what happened, look what your action has caused a man was wheezing in the bushes, and he cried piteously. What did he want and you ran back, nearly breaking your neck.
There is a reason signs are bright red, white stark letters, they implore and dare.
The Apple Tree Inn was erected in the 1957. By the late 1970's, it was on a strip that was considered 'trouble'. What makes an area turn into 'trouble'?
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