Plain Houses
Friday, November 27th, 2009I should be a hippopotamus; tread water during day and graze grassland at dusk. I feel just as heavy. Three and a half tons of written words, sixty pages worth in the last three weeks – all theory, criticisms, gestures, reflections and transgressions. At night, I seek to inhabit sleep to graze for thoughts that are my own and hope they’re light.
Caught a bright sunset on my walk home yesterday. While the sun this morning shone on my face and made my head warm and my hair smell like bed. I picture your feet shuffle across office floors, like a mountain bed of that full-volume Friday work. But the last day is not a mountain, but a hill and not the kind you learn in geography, but from some woman who smiles and considers Wednesdays hump days. I consider her/our definition just as good.
