Monday July 17, 2017
from an email
Laura sends an email to her co-workers telling them she’s going to be away on vacation next week. Laura’s going to stay at home all
day and eat nacho bugles until
it’s dark enough to put nacho bugles on ice cream. She already has the tan lines to make it believable. Laura doesn’t want an excuse to leave her house and talk to anybody. Maybe most people would rather go to the actual beach than pile up in their living room. She wears old yesterdays of herself.
Sunday July 16, 2017
the Artist’s Way
Sarah won’t let me walk under the ladder.
She stops the street with her
I don’t care about anything like
She doesn’t need any more bad luck these days.
We don’t worry about stepping on cracks.
Our mothers’ backs are much too strong for that.
On the street we move into the wind slowly.
I have to remember to snail down to enjoy it.
My feet are always trying to take me somewhere quickly.
They might be showing off their stride.
I could stop more to take in all the alley mattresses left behind.
I could snap a photograph to keep a memory like that.
Sarah believes in a mustard yellow cozy that one day, if nothing else, I hope she gets in spades.
Sarah doesn’t ask for much.
But she deserves all the kitchen mugs on their tiny hooks.
And a little peace.