25 August 2008

Dear S

Hear me write with the plume from my vest
Not with my pen but with my hands
Those that gave birth to the child in your chest
And fingers that paint your face with sand
With nails that scratch away at the glazing of my breast
All to tell you to come back to land

22 August 2008

je vais et je viens

I found a Serge Gainsbourg CD at the second-handed store today. It made my slow-paced day even more delightful. Sitting on the 24sex, I experienced what I have experienced hundreds of times before. You open your mouth to breathe it in and your mind closes off. We have been living in paradise for the past half decade. The closest thing to this four years ago was the white-trash Jersey shore. I would have gone crazy living near the Jersey shore.

On some days, my mind trails far off as I bike around and my eyes pick up on the aroma of wind and sunshine. Then I set my body down to watch the leaves sleep.

At age 220, I am a tired old woman about to leave sb.