We could see the orange streak from the trail through the skinny trees. So we went to the overlook, where it was stronger, and we looked out over the flat wasteland between The Oranges of Jersey to the Hobokens and the Jersey Cities and the Secaucases to the east. And then on to the Big City.
And we thought about what might distinguish a streak from a band, say. Or a smear.
From a stripe or from a stroke. From a slash or from a cut or from a beam.
We stood there in the cold where nobody was and we thought about it. As that long, bright orange streak turned less long. And burned less bright. And became less of a streak.
And we knew one thing for sure: the s-words won out.
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