emma b. says

Monday, May 11, 2009

Rebuts Herself

And then there are all of the intangibles. Things you don't account for when the accountant is wheedling, the things you should have said to someone else when you were leaving, all of those things you should have said when you were leaving the varied and diluted scenes of the crime, a dollar here, a massacre there, it all adds up in the end. It is only my quarter hind flank that is in tatters.

All of those pithy one-liners conjured out of anger out of some smiting rage delivered to an empty vehicle a half a mile too late, shut it down and keep it to yourself, it's just as well. Keep it down, keep it down, down. Otherwise one might step on the brakes too hard and go screeching into the intersection all furor and loneliness, heedless, headless.

But it's all really OK. Earlier this evening I met friends for roast swine flu and we probed some politics and ate really well. I have no idea what tomorrow is going to bring me, I am hoping for a lovely rose and a good man. That is if I am lucky enough to not be hobbled by the pandemic that wasn't. Strange days, strange days, indeed.

*in the last and final days of the aporkalypse we went gathering the wild greens in california that wasn't burnt, theold, old missions kind of scared me, but it was the best and most sacred place for rosemary, if you got there before the nutria did.


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