justwrite 27 october

not every minute has all of me in it but the ones that clamor into focus work their hocus pocus through sensory detail and neverfail diction the contributions of figurative language strangling itself hyperbolically trawling the sea of bullet points anointing the right ones with gunpowder and sending them toward the firing range a passing strange first example easily trampled over was Monday afternoon at the newest secondhand shop on sobornosti street meeting a red sweater I thought I’d buy trying it on in a small curtained stall and after all I didn’t buy it but spit it back when I found grayblack stropes and a needingironed blouse if I don’t mind calling it that but to put the cat back in the bag I was looking in the mirror I was seeing red and instead of my thoughts another phone rang and another woman said again yes I’m on my way home now and yes I will remember okay just one to three minutes of check-in as the workwork stops and the homework begins and even as I decide it fits another all the bobbypin in my hair is suffering from the sweater’s path but still the math is adding up unflattering numbers either I am happy to have zero calls and be free or no one cares enough is aware enough to share enough of my time to wonder if I’m doing fine at the minute but within nine minutes as I find the gray and black stripes fit much better than the toobright sweater I’m composing a letter to the self who asked and I’m back on track in the cool clean quiet of an afternoon in my own space and more of the same ahead