the new wrinkles on the back of my hands
shaking, coming home from dancing.
not understanding kitchen from dining room.
“but I know you dance I read your poems!”
January does go on
louder than expected. my favorite waiterfetish
smiles and says hello from a ways away.
he is quick to differentiate “straight” from “not straight”.
the sun!
he might come down Prez weekend and we could
gallyvant off to Yosemite or something. work work work!
a note from Diane this morning
a fantasy/critical reading of a poem I mailed her
made me laugh hard and happy. dancing.
a clove of garlic discovered in the back corner of the
bread shelf behind the moldy bread.
the yellow teapot upside down in the dish drain.
a cool breeze through the kitchen window. the sun.
the taxi stopping a couple blocks early
and I didn’t know where I was.
