Thursday, December 3, 2009

midst and mires


At the end of the night all the clicks go out and you're left with the slight salt and wince of ammonia socks, the gentle wubble of heaters in states that shouldn't need them combines with the orange green lamps and other more pressing concerns: bed, odd shapes, odder smells (than feet), drawling drawn dialects, happy? Twice I hear it ("this is the NEW south"). Or seven performance scores for a dog named Shu- Shu. Or white knuckles. Waffle Houses. Maya. Triple. Water Heater. Carry on carry on. Get them to moan, ohm, and stomp. Here is Ralph:





(eyes used for tooth support)

No comments:

Post a Comment