riding bikes with banana seats covered in cereal box stickers
dolls with growing hair
riding in the back of truck beds
barking dogs chasing cars
clove cigarettes
pool tables and pin ball games in basements
1970 Ford Torino
fireworks in fields
bus rides to town and hot dogs for lunch
I will be taking a blog break for a week or so.
Be well, and I’ll see you again soon.
you fell into my path
and I carried you to safety
there you were, in my dream last night,
and i recognized you,
and you recognized me–
when the night faded into day
and the light lifted us into consciousness–
I was still there,
but you were not
there are times when she’d like to close her eyes,
lay her head into folded arms,
and sleep for years and years and years
she sat down under the pines
and watched the crows dance in the field
inky, bold succulents
pasted pen-drawn hydrangea petals
a sketched tulip
little white pumpkin outlines
penciled and delicately inked birds
images of wildflower bundles
hand drawn letters
a pressed maple leaf
sometimes in the middle of the day,
your words haunt me
and i am suddenly paralyzed by grief
when the sky looks like blue satin
and the leaves rustle in the wind–
all is well
“…I’ve discovered over the years that the simplist explanation is almost always the right one; and that hunger of one kind or another–desire, by another name– is the source of almost every sorrow.”
From the book, The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud
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