notes on the morning of January 3rd, 2021
Nobody wants to get up. The dogs, they lay here even after I’d made the move to get coffee. They’re watching the neighborhood through our bedroom window. Squirrel show, random traffic.
Rachel Pollon, telling it like it is, was, might be, she wishes
Nobody wants to get up. The dogs, they lay here even after I’d made the move to get coffee. They’re watching the neighborhood through our bedroom window. Squirrel show, random traffic.
“Good luck,” I said. I almost slipped her an extra one. But if she hadn’t returned it upon realizing, I would’ve been disappointed by her dishonesty. Then again, maybe if she’d won, she’d have come back and shared her spoils with me. It was all too complicated and weighted. I couldn’t hold her responsible for the moral fabric of the human race. I was glad I suppressed the urge.
Since you’ve been gone I notice little birds. These little birds come and go. They come, hello they go, goodbye. I have wondered if they are you. But then I tell myself if they were you they wouldn’t go, they would stay. Against all odds against nature and instinct and the cruelty of existence. So
Some of you know, by reputation, personal experience, his Twitter feed, or my countless posts of his epically handsome face, my dog Theo.