The wonky old aluminum window, austere and squealing for mercy, would only rise a few inches. But it was enough. Cheek to sill, nose to screen, breathing; a whole body experience. Morning wrestles night in quiet combat. Damp earth, cool comfort from day’s heat....
If Jesus came to dance, what would the Buddha say? Could we be saved by the sound of shuffling feet? Krishna says, “Break a leg, amigo.” And Jesus snaps a pirouette. If hands that sew are holier than lips that pray, how sacred are feet that...
Ah, morning at the office. Nothing like the fresh aroma of burnt coffee. The chattering of sports scores: who’s sick who’s late who’s brownosing The empty seats bark.
We were lovers long ago, I remember her face in the morning. A jigsaw of fine lines, her dayface dissolved in the pillowcase. When she left, her voice, stained and withered.
I feel like… I never should have made Left Turns. A quantum particle at the gates of Hell. Quinine. I feel like… A Bentley Continental GT steaming down Hennepin Avenue catching every light. A piece of chocolate cake staring down the tines of a quivering fork....
Does my shadow feel? I see his foot tapping to the music. But is it in his soul? Is he the rhythm section to my big band? You only get that kind of love in a spotlight. When my shadow melts into hers, I feel his pain, and run...