today I'm like the actor in monochrome when the movie is like heavy
like saturated reds & greens, that kind of movie
way newer than technicolor, but still the thick dense 8mm sort
that thickworld
& I'm the one with the umbrella, but it isn't raining
so the other actors walk around me down the streets,
avoiding me because
umbrellas always have those sharp stabbers when the rubber things fall off
which I think always they do,
and it's even worse, doing this, because
I've always hated umbrellas.
I've always thought
so I will be wet
so my hair will be fuzzy
so my eyes will tear up
so my coat darkens.
but the rain on a face,
nice, nice
nice
nice
& the other actors mill about avoiding
but they're uncertain, mostly, why don't I see the sun &
the saturated red & green?
but I mean, they're just actors so probably they aren't thinking that at all.
it's really hard to tell, I mean
impossible to tell
what the others
could possibly be thinking
it's okay because I won't stop thinking of what others could possibly be thinking
and what they would think if I told them what I was thinking
or even would they think anything at all.
I had this box of coffee which mostly just spilled onto the floor of my car.
I had a beer in a jar.
I went to the thrift store, and there was an ad on the radio about how boise interior design & co or something supports the christian radio station
what was it
not the teachings
not the services
oh, oh
the duty
yeah, the duty. doing a duty deed
& so in the spirit of it all I bought a child's forest camo tee
like the kind with the leaves
& the branches
& I paid a man drinking a sprite
and he sort of stood there for a second, I think deciding what to do with this sprite in his hand
so he settled on setting it down. He had a superlow voice
& this steady uncertain movement
of a recent believer, or a recent exsmoker, or a recently having been given-birth-to, again
and he said: with fondness, & a struggling sentimental: I'll bet this is for your little boy, isn't it
and I almost lied
no
I said I don't have any children
& he looked me over
and he said, oh, I see, you're small
did he say small bodied?
I left because the beer in the jar was getting warm
& I had looked in the mirror
& my clothes were so drab
so like end of summer, hating on early fall because it will become winter so can't look at the
pretty present
but instead at the sad torturous months ahead, sad futures
it's that sort of outfit
but I'm not that sort of girl
I don't hang in the treacherous promise future
I hang with the heart in my chest kind of present
my brain
my bod
my chipped teeth
they are good for tearing flesh
they are good
for caring
caring flesh
& this morning
& right now
I hear the low moan of a mourning dove, and it sounds so close I think it just must be tucked under that stupid stripe-ed awning
which is pretty nice
it's pretty nice
