taking a pick-axe
and heaving it at a cello,
surely. that’s the music
we’re going for in this
scene. i have a headache
because i’m not on set.
i’m at my not-so-fancy
office in my not-so-fancy
home trying my best to
be on top of things, flu
or whatever this is that
my body is fighting not
withstanding. these
classy headphones exp
lode into my ear as the
blade hits the gorgeous
instrument. i’m drained
and emotional and i’ve
just been asked for input.
my input is the sudden
stream of tears that are
slickening my face – my
head is tilted a bit so
there’s a sort of lachry
mal pond that has built
up just to the right of the
bottom of my chin. as
the pool grows large
enough to let go of the
tears via newly formed
droplets. the first one drips
on my dog, skip. he’s just
a puppy, really, so we’re
still calling him skippy.
he’s been asleep at my
feet, despite all of my an
xiety. but with that drop
he’s up in a huff and out of
my office to someplace he
finds better than lying
