Beauty has no jurisdiction in the sleepwalking morning. Creaking joints and eyes not awoken from slumber quite yet brave the day, unarmed and unassuming the sun tickles the newborn sky until it’s ruddy. A new day blushes and begins.
Day: February 16, 2019
At the wedding of my longest standing friend I lost my voice. “Oh, how do you know Beau?” “He grew up two doors down.” Cough. Here you get a worried look, like the plague might come back in full
If I could dump this mind like a bucket I’d weigh less than a whisper across water, less than a minnow swimming in panic, contained and vibrating bait. How did we kill them? I don’t remember that part. How