Deuces

Pete, I thought of you as I stood in a confusing aisle at Target.  I thought of you and a lot of condoms. I was looking for curlers. All I saw were hot tools sure to burn my fingers and hands and neck the way they always do.  I was looking for the big, old- fashioned curlers that the gals wore in the 50's.  The ones that wouldn't scald my delicate skin. I knew Maria would know if she was with me. And then it happened. I had this random memory of you and Maria and I shopping at Target over 15 years ago. On the eve of my departure to Spain the 3 of us had gone  trolling through the aisles of Target so I could buy all the things I would need for a semester away from a Target. And then it happened sometime before check-out. I discovered lots and lots of condoms in my shopping cart. I was mortified.  And then there you were, laughing. That is you.  You're wickedly humorous at others' expense, dumping lots of STD-avoiding mechanisms into my cart while I wasn't lo...

Wrapped up ball To a corner: slink Head to knees Don't feel, don't think Past: passed Only presents from a presence last

The girl's face is flushed.  Her cheeks are stained with tears and her eyes pink with hurt and maybe embarrassment. As my eyes caught hers for a moment we connected.  I immediately wanted to cry. I turned away, reaching for my phone to type. If I looked any longer I would be in tears to match hers.  Had she not listened? Was she a disappointment?  Her strong and well-defined pre-teen body seems to wither under her frail emotional state.   Her coach is non-plussed- paying attention to another gymnast on a nearby beam. He is the young coach who always has a serious look on his face (and who Lloyd and I agree looks like John Mayer).  I hear him call her: "Kristin" She turns cautiously his way.  What he says I cannot hear though she seems to respect his words and immediately moves into motion despite his unaffected face showing no sympathy to her pink face. Where does sympathy lie?  I think on a conversation my colleagues and I had recently- "the mill...

Dear Lloyd- Happy Birthday- I love these Puma's on you and the matching blue Cajon drum- birthday pressie for the deserving.  My favorite picture from the day: Yours, Cambria 

It is the witching hour- sometime between dark and day. I lie still with the light of a crescent moon peering through a transparent window dressing, dogs barking obnoxiously to remind the world that not all are sleeping. The dogs and I- we are awake. I stare at a dark wall, still. I think on the day passed and on the one yet unmade. What will I make in the new day?  I will drift back soon. I hope the dogs do, too.