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the chair had stopped squeaking, and she hadn't put a drop of WD-40 upon it.
now you know.
WD-40 requires focus and testing, then spraying then relief
now you know
it was beginning to be one of her favorite looks - the ole maple leaves strewn on a never-raked lawn and the leaves dulling into autumn.
she had dreamt about him last night - that he had said, "he cheated on my wife. I don't like him." but the important part is he had been in her life - telling her things.
she had a closet that finally pleased her - not the organization - but the clothing. it looked colorful and girlie. she walked into her house after taking the cat waste to the garbage the most loquacious human in the home. ah the only human in the home. the sole human .
she knew one other, but she couldn't figure out whether it was worth the energy to enact the boundaries.
the other day, she had been so lonely she had called his name.
sort of in reference to talking to herself.
and the one she missed.
it felt like such a waste.
but she remembered it always did
like such a misunderstanding - such a mis-hit - such a squandered opportunity.
it really bummed her out.
she had thought so much she was done thinking about him and then went to wilmington again and stirred up all the dreck of couple-dom and those damning phrases from people who know you best, "we liked him. you just weren't patient enough."
told indirectly.
the cat is taking another shit.
it wouldn't have mattered.
one of her favorite was one that hung on the back of the door - the colorful kimono she had bought in Athens on July 22nd - the one she never wore because she hadn't figured out the sashing and now it was winter anyway. she was looking more for fleece lined dark blue green flannel thick and floor length with maybe silk cuffs.
it was so boring to think it all the time, "I miss him."
it was so boring to have it be so repetitive. it had been just a dull ache, and now "I'm little old miss lost my last chance at companionship due to my childhood wounds surfacing when I feel real feelings..."
that felt trashy and too complex. what did she really mean?
it puzzled her to have hope.
she had neglected her work even though it wasn't hard - it was just responsible.
she had checked out.
she spent moments just wafting over memories.
the only nice thing was that the yard was strewn with these tiny lily flowers -not the onerous dandelions - and it hadn't rained a bit.
the heat was on and it was 40 minutes before show time.
work.
she had always known she was smart and to hide it except from teachers.
it was only in college that she learned she was beautiful.
it was fun to be smart and beautiful for a time. it was intoxicating - kind of like wondering why you keep getting such prey falling before your feet.
and then it fades away after you snare a buck to
test your
luck
with
and you fail a time or two and then it fades
and you sit in a teal chair looking at a round mirror and you think all you have are these stories and all the stories you've told that were not merely but just
transmissions
and the walkman cometh. he's in dark clothes and a hat - all long sleeves of course. it's cold. the prettiest cat - the grumpy siamese tabby is sunning and bathing in the driveway.
"I miss him."
"so what, it's over-ski lovely lady. live. dammit. live. get in."
she turned to her other side on the heated bed. "no. I miss him."
"you're getting boring."
that's just the problem, there's nothing to bore into.
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