is so hard to come by. I’m in no rush, are you?
He shows up a beautiful evening, sits and talks
a bit, looks all tired, cute. I want to believe in
his heart. And I write it, actually. Then chit-
chat with Michelle at home. I like time. But
I love. I love. You-know-who. Social anthro-
pology is fun, but bumping into personal
boundaries is underwhelming. I do appreciate
the clunkiness of monster-dom a bit too will-
ingly, I’m sure. So now I think in the clouds
(I’m talking weather). One spasm after another.
Can’t get the icicles out of my head. The ones
dripping from the rocking horse in Southern
Missouri. Our time is blessed? It’s one
after another. Thanksgiving turkey.
Fourth of July. My aunt’s daughter
places her fingers under a lawn-
mower clogged with clover.
