I'd rather be burlesquing.

Friday, May 20, 2005


A rain so light that the mist sticks to my eyelashes.

The hesitant sound of Damien Rice from another's headphones.
a mouth that says O again and again in wonder and pain*

A stocking with a seam running into it's high-heeled shoe.

A small girl helping a blind man cross the street. The expression on her face, that pure elation; the result of helping. The quiet secret that she needed it more than he.

Foregoing the ban on dairy to sip a latte from my favorite Italian coffee shop.

A stack of worn books about artists who's paintings I have never seen, about places I have never been.

A red brick building.
Dreaming of far-away places.

Dreaming of me dreaming of you dreaming of me.

*from "Variations on the Word Love", by Margaret Atwood


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