Wednesday, August 20, 2008 11:41:11 AM
coffee hangs against my veins like this reaching white hue over denver. i am waking slowly to the day, which has not announced itself with the garish sun, or the motion of people with their cars and dogs and duties. i stand at the window yawning my naive severance from the condition of labor, and out of my fondest diligent custom, i turn to musing.
my day is wildly free. i love that word, wild. it is so real and unfamiliar. the opposite of amazing, or fine, or cool, which are excessive and tired and subtly unconvincing. i don’t like words like that.
a family just walked by across the street. (my street.) a large hobbling father with three young sons. the eldest gripped the small hand of his young brother, and the youngest trailed behind with a store bought bunt cake in one shifty hand. i wonder where they could be headed at 10:30 in the morning with a bunt cake, and why they are not in school. the cake could be an offering to a teacher, perhaps, a sugary persuasion to overlook flagrant tardiness. a student once tried that on me with a large milky coffee. i hugged him and asked him to quietly take a seat.
just terrible.
what is it about coffee that urges me to find truce to the world? it could not be all that welcome caffeine, because i feel this sense of repose even before the first mouthful. perhaps i am conditioned to associate the experience of coffee with some pacified setting. wine is also like that, although there is a greater sense of mischief and blitheness.
and sex.
i want to sit with wine and the coy premise of sex, and rise after hours against navy walls and curtains and soft breaths of the fan, devastating plans of early coffee and seated calm. beautiful distractions.
i am idle on my couch again. there are workers coming in and out of cars along the street. (my street.) i should probably step into the shower and finish my (tuesday) errands before reading and class. i must think of class as an adventure and not an obligation, although it is both. yes, it is both, so i am only wildly free until 5:30.
i love our times apart. it is like strolling in a gallery with my hand on my chin, gazing for new surfaces and making up stories. it is the private moments of reflection, when i reach more fully in my affection. people must wonder why i smile as i go.
my giant espresso machine hums and my new necklaces shine primely and my sunflowers swallow water through their green stalking shells.
it is too obvious.
.
coffee hangs against my veins like this reaching white hue over denver. i am waking slowly to the day, which has not announced itself with the garish sun, or the motion of people with their cars and dogs and duties. i stand at the window yawning my naive severance from the condition of labor, and out of my fondest diligent custom, i turn to musing.
my day is wildly free. i love that word, wild. it is so real and unfamiliar. the opposite of amazing, or fine, or cool, which are excessive and tired and subtly unconvincing. i don’t like words like that.
a family just walked by across the street. (my street.) a large hobbling father with three young sons. the eldest gripped the small hand of his young brother, and the youngest trailed behind with a store bought bunt cake in one shifty hand. i wonder where they could be headed at 10:30 in the morning with a bunt cake, and why they are not in school. the cake could be an offering to a teacher, perhaps, a sugary persuasion to overlook flagrant tardiness. a student once tried that on me with a large milky coffee. i hugged him and asked him to quietly take a seat.
just terrible.
what is it about coffee that urges me to find truce to the world? it could not be all that welcome caffeine, because i feel this sense of repose even before the first mouthful. perhaps i am conditioned to associate the experience of coffee with some pacified setting. wine is also like that, although there is a greater sense of mischief and blitheness.
and sex.
i want to sit with wine and the coy premise of sex, and rise after hours against navy walls and curtains and soft breaths of the fan, devastating plans of early coffee and seated calm. beautiful distractions.
i am idle on my couch again. there are workers coming in and out of cars along the street. (my street.) i should probably step into the shower and finish my (tuesday) errands before reading and class. i must think of class as an adventure and not an obligation, although it is both. yes, it is both, so i am only wildly free until 5:30.
i love our times apart. it is like strolling in a gallery with my hand on my chin, gazing for new surfaces and making up stories. it is the private moments of reflection, when i reach more fully in my affection. people must wonder why i smile as i go.
my giant espresso machine hums and my new necklaces shine primely and my sunflowers swallow water through their green stalking shells.
it is too obvious.
.
