Monday, April 18, 2011
I play the same song, over and over again. It takes me away, well, not away, back. I wonder what the neighbors think, but don't change a thing. The plants in my window are misshapen, so leggy, reaching desperately for the sun. They need more. It's supposed to rain soon, but I'm going out anyway. I won't wait. I don't feel like waiting. Why is this single white slipper still in the park? I first saw it in early March. Time keeps the same pace, but it's all relative. As life stretches time appears to move more quickly. Today is not moving at all. It is a pause, pressed down and smeared with a thumb. I can do anything I please and it won't count. I remember the sea lion in Biarritz, sleeping in the sun. He knew it wouldn't last.