Month: April 2011

  • Saturday, Saturday.

    I went on a 3 mile walk this morning along the dike. The water is overflowing from the river. Muddy caramel colors swirling, stumps drifting. It was overcast and cold and nothing like it is right now. Right now it is sunny and wonderful and lilac-filled and lawn mower filled and motorcycle filled. C was…

  • Back at the ranch

    This morning, I opened a bill that came yesterday. From the ob-gyn. An ultrasound I had about 2 or 3 months ago that I’ve never had to pay for before, but now that our company has changed our insurance I have to pay $94 for something that used to be preventive and free. Sometimes money…

  • When a lumberjack finds a glittery egg

    I was in a deep green forest last night. A lush moss-covered island with a house on the tip. Surrounded by a dark creek. A small wooden house or cottage adorned the edge, the island was just big enough to fit it. Pat and I met up with an old friend and her new life…

  • GUUUUUULP

    This is my first gulp of air at work today. And now it smells like fish. Last night I had a dream of two twisters. Clear and close enough I could kiss. And I wasn’t scared of them, I was in awe. I wanted to touch them. They seemed more liquid than air. The lightning…

  • So there

    This year I have to share my birthday with a wedding. I told them that it was my birthday, but I don’t think they heard me. And I don’t think they care because they are in love and they are planning what best banquet hotel food to order for masses of people and I could…

  • Thanks, Uncle Stevie

    Rach; “Rejects” = You are a writer. No “Rejects” = You are watching TV, sleeping, doing chores, … et al. Keep up the good work! -Steve

  • Hot damn, Dunkin

    Pat and I got coffee last night at the Dunkin where all the bikers hang out. I wish there was a better place to get coffee, but it was quick and I was really good about not ordering a chocolate frosting doughnut and we were just killing time before our friends got home – we…

  • Names for the unknown

    This morning I cried. The holes of a heart that don’t feel like holes at all, but pressure building with no holes to breathe out of. The condensation building by the edge of glass. That’s what happens – breath turns to water. I felt abandoned by someone who would probably never abandoned me. But that’s…

  • bread crumbs

    Lunch outside. My knees burning under my black pants. My pits sweating, my skin blooming red from the sun. My tulips have yet to open up in the garden. Tightly curled in their green pillows. They are open every where else. I ate a beautiful, simple meal: chili, the last of our garlic, salty bread,…