the fish bowl was curtained. barn. barn.

Today I ran. A few sections only jog. And after a brief stint I wrapped up the headphones to hear the rays and warm grass. "I've been acting like sour milk fell on the floor/It's your fault you didn't shut the refrigerator*" served it's purpose in the first fifteen feet: I was out the door.
I saw a woman being picked up from work in a dirty diesel construction landscaping truck. Maybe he and she did not have the jobs they dreamed of. Maybe they never dreamed of a job. But how beautiful.
But that's romanticism. We can't stay in that season. There are more roses to smell.
I also noticed when I say Hi as I pass on a run, it sounds nasally.

There was a large gold vinyl arm chair at my grandparents. I once chopped my hair off down to my scalp. Then three years old, I sat behind the gold arm chair and snipped everything I could. My sock. Just a snip. The inside of a pocket of the skirt I was wearing. Just a snip. I sat behind the gold chair and looked up creative and guilty. I started going to a salon recently. Fantastic. Does this mean I'm sitting in the gold chair now? It's vinyl, is it all that great? Where do I stand in relation to the gold chair? I think I'll just play musical chairs by myself. And occasionally lose.

There is a sticker on my textbook that says: "Used saves textbooks from your bookstore." Who is this used that saves books from my bookstore?

Pit. pat.
pit.
pat.
tick tick pat.
tick tick tick tick tick.
pat.
pit.

pit.
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pit pit pit pit pit pit pat
pit pit pit pit pit pit pat tack.

Cement block porch. Card table. lawn chairs. plaid blanket. "I'm just sitting back loving you**)

*Gwen Stefani's The Sweet Escape
**The Lovin Spoonful's Lovin' You