I am different than the girl you knew
two years ago, one year ago, six months ago...
New poetry books are on their way.
Liam Rector, Charles Simic, and Michael Dumanis.
Yes, I intend on sharing.
Poetry? Who knew?
The last wedding dog was hung on Saturday. The groom, twitching, dropped the ring, which rolled down the aisle to rest at the feet of the bride’s father. Later, the groom’s face refused to find a suitable position to kiss the bride. The bride finally grabbed him, held his face firmly, and took matters into her own lips. Good.
The kids are both back in school. Tom left for WMU last night, forgetting half of his important belongings, including his tennis shoes. He did all his own moving, packing… Yes, Jesus, I’m not exactly cutting the apron strings, just untying the knots. It seems apparent he’ll be back, again and again.
Gene has run off to Chicago for a couple of days, working on his first solo assignment for his new job.
And that’s the news.
Summer’s gone.
3 comments:
Don't cut the apron strings, Charmi. He's only nineteen. You'll just have to sew them back on later.
Summer's gone, but we still have to mow the lawn and put on the mosquitoe spary. I'm tempted to go through Hadley's summer things and pull out the winter things, but I must wait a bit longer.
Darn bugs and kids. I'm completely bitten up and will probably die of West Nile disease. I also have a charming case of poison ivy rash. I think you might wait a bit on the winter garb. Talia. Too soon, too soon.
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