Tuesday, August 01, 2006

cclxiii

I bit my tongue until it bled.

We went miniature golfing again,
then walked Broadmoor discussing
eye-for-eye retribution and the
senselessness of media-frenzied infidelity.

I sat thinking for a long time the day
after Thanksgiving.

The flag was brilliant.
Spools of clouds
disappeared.

And then, sleeping separately,
a spectacular light storm at the 3:00 a.m. hour.