Three days running now I've seen goslings. Here and there but always near water. One sentence runs into the next (forecasts the next) and that's the easiest way to do it. Who cares if it's linear. So is time. It's memory that sort of clouds the issue.
A list from yesterday might include: deer mounts, bear rugs, tears, wrong turns, lit-up hearts, coffee, creaking stairs. Alice the duck, last vestige of the naive farmer, appears to be in the throes of her final illness. Scatter layer pellets, dose her gently with the hose. Is it possible the heart literally grows heavier when sad? Can you prove to me it doesn't?
You wonder who reads this. But don't exactly care. Audience was never the point. What the point was has grown distant and faint, like an image in the rear view mirror. Yes, it is closer than it appears. On the other hand, what do I know.
But hey, who cares what I know? It's not what you know but how you use it. And what, friend, does that remind you of?
No comments:
Post a Comment