instead, the two large dogs go game over a single stick. a bucket moves now and then, mouth side down, and because I am high I put my heart to the right side of my chest. I have been told under the bucket there is a dead chipmunk. I periodically believe this, and cannot admit I am stirred by doubt. I focus on the dogs and on the stick I can see. you’ve braved the zip line that runs through the trees and I might have heard your legs crack on the road. I’ve known Ohio to be flat, but here I am. I’ve known Ohio to sound like the young adult Jesus strolling and that’s if I strain. I am afraid to go in the house; I worry the dogs will either disappear downhill to lick you or tip the bucket and be lost.