Friday, December 13, 2013

mmxlv

But with nobody, almost.

Rain this morning after a
long Indian Summer.  But
with nobody, almost. 

Joking about being com-
petitive, etc., we walk
down Pine Street for

a few days.  Reading
a poem about pigeons
by Lewis Ellingham

in the latest Mirage.
About getting rid
of them.  And

other things.
The crab
enchiladas

are too ex-
pensive.  In-
stead, we

should go to
Boston for
turkey, like

everyone
else I don’t
know.