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Sunday, April 15, 2018




Don’t forget—your wife’s in the boat—you’re on the shore.
            ~ Don Draper

When you’re supposed to have a storm & black thunderheads float by like one of Heinlein’s adult Martians & everything feels tight in its skin about to bust right out if you don’t get some kind of sign from the sky & your head burns waiting & you want to eat hot curry to tamp the burn but you’re in the forest & clouds are piling up & there’s a feeling in the air the sky ionized so strongly it could iron your father’s white cotton shirts in 3 seconds flat if only it would let loose & you start praying to whatever god is handy the god of Wednesday the god of Tuesday Weld the god of Narnia the god of bad art the god of unread books the god of your goddamn too small server the god of the broken printer the god of hospital cafeteria smells the god of loose change the god of one hour martinizing & of course Beethoven that the whole mess would just pop but it doesn't it’s a balloon in your stomach it’s full of helium & it keeps filling with helium & there’s a lot of space & it’s filling quick but none of it does any good because the damned sky won’t open & everything & everyone is waiting?

2 comments:

elisabeth workman said...

Dear R, please consider the crush mutual. X

Radish King said...

❤️❤️❤️