on thursday i woke up happy again. and so it goes, the carnival ride of my mind.
on friday i drank too much of the free punch and rubbed up against all the wrong boys, and on saturday morning everyone kept finding me in a heap on this or that bench, unable to speak and rubbing my lips with the piece of bread i couldn’t eat. i was still in the emerald green slip i had worn as part of my costume the night before, except that hung-over, i moved more like water than ever. i remember stretching out on the hard bench in the back alley to the tune of our ramshackle wind chime fleet, green silk spilling over my legs and towards the ground while the sun warmed my dirt-darkened feet.
and today, sunday, i celebrated the end of saturday by doing all of my favorite things: slept ’til 1, listened to the rain through my open window, wrote a bit, read that amy hempel story about the crazy lady, went to carolina thrift to examine every single item, enjoyed a lovely, lyrical banjo experience at the coffee shop, and spoke to no one until 7:30 pm.
sweet, sweet silence.
and nighttime biscuits from a can for the final sunday treat.
