red berries grey bark blue sky dun birds
Nov. 22nd, 2001 11:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aslantfelt sickish last night, went to bed early. the bedrooms here are so dark that when you turn off the lights, it doesn't really matter if you close your eyes or not.
it stays like that, a liquid dark pressing in everywhere.
c's cat erik-the-red caught a flying squirrel last night. she's playing the piano next to me right now. counting off sharps and flats. her pink robe, her curly hair. c and her mom and sister could pass for triplets.
i cough now a lot. i sound like an old lady.
i dreamt of reanimated corpses, solid bodies of ash. a skull that spoke to me (with r's voice) and then vanished up the chimney. and germans in this dream, everywhere, waving calgary flags, feeding me rum from cuba, with lemons. i fought against a gang.
i watched mr paquette stuff the turkey this morning, smoothing oil and salt everywhere, knotting string across limbs. he's a small man, a joker. he said yeah so we have this family tradition. the guest has to kiss the bird for holiday good luck. really, i asked? yes, really, he said. i did it anyway, just to fake him out. because of course he was lying the whole time. dads are funny folk. i miss mine. i wiped the taste of it off quickly. i'm praying for no e. coli. it's supposed to taste like salt, he says. oh yes, i said. very salty.
[listening i can
hear you
listening]
it stays like that, a liquid dark pressing in everywhere.
c's cat erik-the-red caught a flying squirrel last night. she's playing the piano next to me right now. counting off sharps and flats. her pink robe, her curly hair. c and her mom and sister could pass for triplets.
i cough now a lot. i sound like an old lady.
i dreamt of reanimated corpses, solid bodies of ash. a skull that spoke to me (with r's voice) and then vanished up the chimney. and germans in this dream, everywhere, waving calgary flags, feeding me rum from cuba, with lemons. i fought against a gang.
i watched mr paquette stuff the turkey this morning, smoothing oil and salt everywhere, knotting string across limbs. he's a small man, a joker. he said yeah so we have this family tradition. the guest has to kiss the bird for holiday good luck. really, i asked? yes, really, he said. i did it anyway, just to fake him out. because of course he was lying the whole time. dads are funny folk. i miss mine. i wiped the taste of it off quickly. i'm praying for no e. coli. it's supposed to taste like salt, he says. oh yes, i said. very salty.
[listening i can
hear you
listening]
