It's true that twenty sentences is not such a big deal - hell, these took less than five minutes and there's even a bonus one. It's when you start thinking there ought to be some Holy Ghost-like meaning contained in them that things begin to get tricky. Especially if the meaning - at least the way you see it right now - has to slip in unawares. Like you're surprised by it, too. Well, I don't like saying this is what I'm doing. And anyway I'm not.
I identify as trilingual, though never in rooms where I know somebody speaks either French or Greek. In Greek, I can say "I'm so hungry I could eat a cow" or "Little monkey has a big butt." I know the words for milk, mouse, mother, father, snake, goat and love. I don't know the French word for sentence. These are sentences, not lines. That's a hint.
Yesterday I forget to empty the coffee grounds, which means today is off to a bad start. Plus Jeremiah couldn't sleep. Whoever delivers the paper spent half an hour counting loose change in the driveway, their headlights sprawling through the bedroom. It was like being underwater on display, as if we were blue lobsters that people pay to see. I can tell he's asleep by the way his body settles. Something heavy slips out of us when at last we fall asleep. I don't mind saying it. Dreams are a better place.
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