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<title>The mountain | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
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<h1 class="title">The mountain</h1>
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<p>The other side of this mountain<br />is not the mountain. This side<br />is honey-golden, sticky-sweet,<br />full of phone conversations with mother.<br />The other side is a bell,<br />ringing in the church-steeple<br />the day mother died.</p>
<p>The other side of the mountain<br /><a href="apollo11.html">is not a mountain. It is a dark</a><br />valley crossed by a river.<br />There is a ferry at the bottom.</p>
<p>This mountain is not a mountain.<br />I walked to the top, but it turned<br />and was only a shelf halfway up.<br />I felt like an unused Bible<br />sitting on a <a href="and.html">dusty pew</a>.</p>
<p>A hawk soars over the mountain.<br />She is looking for home.</p>
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