The time has come for us to meet and sit and chat about nothing at all. In the hopes that something will arise out of the petty teeming; the who did this; the what color did that get painted — maybe we can reach a place of mutual curiosity.
In the tree house of Continue reading The day the ducks went in the fountain
I am paying for someone to clean my apartment before Tonya and Rafael come home. I broke four vases. Busted a dish. Skinned the cat. Destroyed a pan. Killed a plant. Burned a door. Teared the rug and broke a chair.
And it’s not that I’m mean or I’m gross or I’m messy.
Or, I can’t take a call without spilling my latte.
Or, can’t ride a bike without smashing a taxi.
These walls seem to ask, no, beg for a riot,
When I open the door and it sounds so quiet.