I took my first trip on the Massachusetts commuter line this afternoon to Salem, an eighteen-mile trip that boasted industrial scenery as well as a quaint town called Scottswamp. I brought out my horse laugh when I saw the name of that town because SML will call any sweaty place on his body the “swamp.” SML did not laugh like a horse when he saw the sign, but I’m guessing it was only because there were other people on the train.

I took this picture in one of the oldest graveyards in America, a small plot of land tucked into the near center of the city. It’s fascinating to me that these stones are still standing, clean even from vandalism. That may be because I’ve been living in Allston for the last year with a postal box telling me “u watch ur ass.”

Modern tombstones aren’t nearly as scary as these, which makes me wonder if it’s possible to get something like this made up for myself. It would have to look antique with water spots and a faded inscription, with maybe a skull near the top with angel wings. Maybe I shouldn’t post this here, I don’t want to go into Costco and see that someone has stolen my idea.

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