Monday, February 11, 2013

Sonja

If skin could talk we would never hear the end of it.
Lived in, damaged, healed, soft, flexible with a smile, stark with an eyebrow.
Eyes lit up thinking of a little lamb fed by hand until it was fully grown.
Feet up on a balcony under a red roof.
Something about an old school friend who had found you from across the globe.
Painful, confident steps to a stove, and some small flowers in a vase.
French television stewing in the background.
Combs carefully holding a life together.
An ordinary day, except for a familiar voice on my voicemail.
What do you call squirrels again in Dutch?
Where do I drop these things off? I have some socks they could use.
We could order something from the Vietnamese place.
A click. The voice is gone.
There are visitors coming.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Nemo

A snow storm hit New York and surrounding areas yesterday. Today kids were sledding on anything they could find. Two boys used their boogie boards to sled off of snow covered dunes. One of them landed flat on the ground.
"I'm dead" he said, "I feel like I'm dead." The other boy was quiet for a moment. "You're not dead!" The other boy got up and yelled "Thank Heavens!" to no one in particular.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Overheard in the A train

10:30 PM
They're putting everyone in the stands now. Anyone can be in the stands. This shorty next to me today was getting mad voids. I'm telling you, mad voids. And I swear on my mother, vendors can't get cashier shifts. Cashiers can get our shifts, but we can't get a cashier shift. I swear on my mother. Now when you call out, they don't just put a cross on your sheet, it's all too much paperwork. Lydia can't keep track anymore. She can't keep track. Now it's all verbal warnings. All verbal. I shoulda been gone a long time ago.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Things I will work on in February

Not offend people. On this blog or elsewhere. This is specifically meant for one person. Who I offended on this blog. And in real life. Sorry.
Do groceries and buy vegetables.
A retrospective. Of things I once wanted to do, but might never complete.
Being friendly to people while waiting in line. When I'm doing groceries for instance.
Count to ten when I want to hit my sister with my fist on her leg.
Wearing appropriate outfits, for the weather, circumstances, etc.
Use my planner, rather than virtual post-its on my computer I often accidentally delete.
Exercise.
Save receipts.
Wake up early. Sort of.