Monthly Archives: March 2017

I live here.

There’s a dead fox on the road, just past the speed trap at the drive in. I know this because earlier I switched lanes to avoid hitting it, as if it mattered now to the poor thing. I briefly thought of waste, and sorrow. The tiniest moment to recognize the pain the poor thing felt.


But now the fox is blocked by the speed trap’s police car, lights on. From a distance I thought, hah, she got someone. There’s a woman on the sidewalk, hand pressed to her ear so she can shout more effectively into the cell phone against the other ear, walking away. The cop is talking to another woman, notebook out, looking concerned. The second woman has her steepled fingers pressed to her lips. Give me strength. There’s no car that was pulled over.


I wonder, for 2 days, what that was, what that weird little scene meant.


At the grocery store, there’s a woman in the car across the row from me, bouncing along to music while she does her bills. She’s in her 50s, blond permed hair a triangle around her round face. I bet she’s got a smoker’s laugh, a bawdy sense of humor. Drinks spiked seltzers, has a dog, maybe cats. Sits on her pine needle covered lawn in the summer, in a beach chair, with music and a magazine. Has a lot of friends.


At the door, there’s a pair of indeterminately aged men. The taller one has a shock of pure white hair, and he’s walking away stiffly, a perscription or paperwork in his hands. “I will,” he calls back. “I will let you know.” The other man grins, moustache yellow white, smokes a foul smelling cigar. I spare a smile since he’s looking at me, but I don’t say hello. You don’t say hello to people you don’t know here.

Doesn’t love a wall


It snowed, and then rained, and snowed again. It’s so cold that the icy puddles don’t even thaw in the sun, and every day I drive over them gingerly. Baxter and I go to the vet twice a week for shots, and my upper body strength has increased greatly from lifting his butt into the car. He’s greeted with love by the vet and everyone there, because he’s lovable. He follows me around my tiny cabin, always lying close. If he’s asleep and I move, he wakes up concerned until he sees where I am now. Shadow.






67AC74A8-9518-4E10-906F-56FC292F7824 C4D0238E-98F2-4F98-9728-CBB0ECCFB04E C9D9B60E-3184-4062-8F13-E6FF9C42E8FB IMG_0020 IMG_0026 IMG_0395 IMG_0445I take walks sometimes, thinking about how nice it is to walk through the woods with a book in my ears. I’ve read so much lately, and I look at my dwindling to read pile with pleasure. I’m writing, and taking pictures, and generally trying to keep heart. I’m on a social media diet; found myself caught in a ludic loop. Plus the part where I’d read twitter first thing and then find myself questioning the need to get out of bed at all. Sometimes things are dark.



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