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riffling through the pages of the open book in the next room? We all catch up with the dead. No hair length but in humidity. Oyster sky at sundown. After dinner at The Teddy Roosevelt Café, we walked the vacant streets of the mountain town, past the closed shops, past the mystic merchandise. Cute as a stuffed buffalo in the gift shop of the stern hearted. Seasons trail, back o’ the hand. Calm eddies dimple the stream. Impulsiveness, some say, 
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may have once meant survival. God I just did not want to do it anymore so I did it no longer. This does not make me a hero, even in America where I’m busy trying to clear my ear, pouring solutions down the canal and it’s not easy to be sure what’s in any bottle these days. Products of fear, day before Christmas, no difference, ear’s worse and what’s more, some sweaters are simply too much: warmth, pattern, price, you name it. But thanks anyway (just practicing), yes, thanks. And remember that billboard?  |
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