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| this is a good day.I don't write here anymore.
But it's March 22nd, and I just can't help it.
This is my own personal holiday now. :)
I want to remember.
I want to go back.
I want to recreate a little of what was.
But I want it to be new.
Every year all new.
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| I love night, and Kellogg's smart start redberries, and Travis and his ridiculous sense of humor, and my car and la mia bella gatta si chiama Gabriella, and my bed and my new cute little ipod and Minnesota accents, 91.5 after 9:00pm, getting up early, the moon, black and white photography on real live 35mm film (none of that digital crap), spellbound vino rosso (especially at Jardine's jazz club), Blue Chip iced sugar cookies, Professor William H. Buckley and his beautiful blue eyes and soft sweet fur, Dr Pepper, a good disc tossing session in a Banana Republic dress, espresso with sugar, and speaking of-- Coffee Bay at 5:15 am, Tears for Fears, TOTO (omg), coffee shops on Johnson Drive, Scrubs, the pancake drawer and dreaming.
And I can't wait to see Jess, Kurin, Meg and Robyn on Sunday.
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| council bluffs
how do the umpires know
what color shirt to wear to the game?
she wondered idly in the afternoon's heat
it isn't as if
they all wear orange
or sky blue or chartreuse or melon
but every game on every field
strolling suburnt in the dust
each pair matches perfectly,
in the spirit of noah and his arc
one is tall, another quite short
one sports a beard, the other sleek glasses
but their shirts-- their shirts are identical
blue and blue
tan and tan
always red with red
the one and only explanation, she realized
is that like middle school girls,
giggling after dinner on the phone
about which boys they like the best,
they called each other
last night
and decided together which color to wear.
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| you're not a land mine.
you're not a gold mine.
no, you're not mine at all.
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