Saturday February 21, 2015
If I’m ever lonely just send me out to sea
Floating on the water
All the fishes and me
If I’m ever lonely I won’t sing this song
I’ll sit in the dark quiet
Thinkin’ what else might go wrong
If I’m ever lonely I’ll make a pot of stew
I’ll chop up some onions
Nothin’ else will do
If I’m ever lonely I’ll lay in my bed
I’ll listen to the clock tick
And rest my weary head
Sunday December 14
Eyewitness Travel London
When we find our way back to the cabin, we’re laughing.
We’re drunk on the highs and lows of love and winter.
When we sit in front of the roaring fire we make jokes about the times we were dumber.
“We weren’t dumb,” you say.
“We were free then,” you say.
You make stew with lamb and sweet potatoes.
I chop wood.
Snow starts to fall and comes down like a dusting of possibility.
The candles burn low.
I peel clementines and toss the rind on the fire.
We’re in Florida for a few minutes.
In the oranges groves of your grandfather’s farm.