This is one nephew; and it is another nephew's third birthday today. Praise God. My broken axle. I'd procured a new one, five dollars, but on trying to install it soon found it was too short. Grease all over my hands, hungry: only donuts, and those frozen. Eat them frozen. Who ever heard of freezing a donut. I'll miss the bus! Tomorrow heavy rain, can't ride from station. My eyes: why can't I focus on anything? Was that sucker-whip during the Gorham pruning a couple months back as damaging as that? Apparently so. And my camera lens too somehow sympathetically declined into blurs & spots. Give up on bus, ride back to bike shop to find a longer axle. They don't have one. Get my dollars back and bring them to the shop in the "New System Laundry" building; leave with a gnarly-looking axle and head for Eastern Cemetery to reflect. Cemetery gates locked, absurd: richest butteriest light of the day, finest time to visit that place. Sundown hour conceptualized on winter-terms, habit, leftover. Climb fence; my eyes! Trees blurry, House Island & Whitehead heartstring-strumming impressionistic visual processes off in the blue of god. Slip and hit knee, hard. Am I dying?