Big-girl shoes

I picked up the guitar this morning for what’s seemed like a year. years keep popping up today. I tuned it poorly to itself because it is a solo instrument in my house and has only to answer to itself and me and my fingers that have no calluses on them and my cat who hates the noise, but likes when I sing to her. She’s my biggest fan today. Running up to me when i start belting Judy Garland songs at the top of my lungs. I sang all the way to the salvation army where I was going to look for ugly Christmas sweaters for the ugly christmas sweater party I’ve been invited to. I like dress-up parties where the point is to look hideous and weird. I was coming the racks for hours. I popped a button on a really beautiful jacket that I was going to buy for myself, truly buy for my wardrobe, but it was too big anyway and I stuck the newly decapitated button platewise through the eyehole. My apologies to whoever picks it up next. I hope the button is not lost on the floor. But there were no pockets.
Anyway, I found a few ugly(fantastic) vests with snowmen and buttons and holy and things barfed on with lace and plastic pearls and it’s the most wonderful time of the year!

I wrote a poem this morning that I love. I’m writing more and more to love. About water and nests and skin and animals.

The other day I became a big girl, with my big-girl shoes and credit card on and bought a washer and dryer. Good bye moldy, toothless, mixed in baby socks, old man undies, seats that the heaviest asses have pushed the life out of. Good bye, good bye cleanest of the dirties Laundromat.

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