We collected souvenirs from bench seats, lumberjack breakfasts, future neighborhoods, some from the old Portuguese woman’s antiques and of our foot aches. For as long as we could capture their perishable bliss and until the rain drew us in later the next day. The chorus of meriendas at a café, accompanied by Andrew Bird and Beirut. The pressures of young and old, but here is unchanging.

These words were meant for yesterday, recycled for today to be used with the rain to make our lawns green again.

The streetcar was late, so I eavesdropped on some faces. All kinds of eccentric, but kind people passed: a herd of Chinese women graze the lobby to rest their feet, a girl wearing a short red coat hands herself over to a boy, who enjoys playing with his keys. All kinds of shadows move around. But one just barely.

Where did the day go? Thank you for getting me that green shirt. I haven’t even flossed and you’re already asleep.

I wish they would lift their eyelids or hold their heads up. I sat along the steps before heading in to watch an assembly of people dig the ground with their eyes. No one looked at each other. But the ground was so bright. It was windy too. An old construction guy sat diagonally from where I was. He blew his smoke at the people passing by.

It’s hard to take breaks away from words. Lunch was great. It’s windy outside again.

This reminds me of that good, French breakfast place you took me to.

I was looking at a photo and it feels good to refrain from words. I feel I’ve lost myself at some point in a variety of ideas that all sound the same… infinite variety, order in variety, Tom’s Variety…

I look forward to the train ride tomorrow. I’m confident my posture will be better. My eyes less beat. I’m excited by a prospect of fewer words, Lost night, greasy pizza, messy hands.

I was walking around Kensington the day I sent you that message. It was windy, like yesterday, but the shoe store with the funny lady wasn’t there yet. When I sat by the curb yesterday it reminded me of that day. And now, I’ve become your real life buoy. And as I waited for you outside the coffee shop, I realized how the knots seem to get tighter and tighter.

(canovix)

I love the colors on this photograph. ‘Everything’s going to be alright’. That’s what the colors say. And also what the two guys, the wind under her shirt, the blue patches on the yellow parasol, the shadow, the separated cloud… that’s what they all say.