rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Swept Clean

Giving the mosquitoes their shot, I sit on the back porch watching the evening deepen. The scotch broom that lines the cross street two lots south grows taller each year, and this year its massed yellow blossoms hide the houses beyond, except for the chimney and part of the roof of one. I used to see people come and go there, but now I only hear the disembodied sounds of doors closing or cars leaving driveways or kids playing in front yards. This does not displease me. I've always been fond of hedges and the air mystery they create. The bright yellow flowers of the broom are a bonus.

Broom is classified as a noxious invasive plant in California, of course, but the harm it does doesn't extend to damaging the eyes of anyone gazing upon it. In fact I'd say it's easier on the eyes than many of California's native plants. Besides, I could be considered an invasive species here myself, so I guess the broom and I have something in common. It's just that the authorities aren't going to try to poison me. Well, as far as I know they aren't. If they do I'll hide in the broom, and we can be safe or die together. On the other hand if they only come for the broom, the plant is on its own. I don't like it that much.

Oh, the heat is getting to me. Fried brain. It's the year's first wave of heat. I hope I adjust to it soon. It seems to take me a bit longer to do so each year. But as compensation, the jasmine has bloomed. Overnight, thousands of white blossoms opened. Tonight will be both cool and perfumed. I intend to be up all night, inhaling. Now it really feels like June.

Sunday Verse

Pigeons at Dawn

by Charles Simic

Extraordinary efforts are being made
To hide things from us, my friend.
Some stay up into the wee hours
To search their souls.
Others undress each other in darkened rooms.

The creaky old elevator
Took us down to the icy cellar first
To show us a mop and a bucket
Before it deigned to ascend again
With a sigh of exasperation.

Under the vast, early-dawn sky
The city lay silent before us.
Everything on hold:
Rooftops and water towers,
Clouds and wisps of white smoke.

We must be patient, we told ourselves,
See if the pigeons will coo now
For the one who comes to her window
To feed them angel cake,
All but invisible, but for her slender arm.

  • Reset Seventeen, Day Fifteen

    Once again I've forgotten when I went to sleep, but I woke up around two o'clock in the morning. Tuesday was quite warm, and I kept the windows open…

  • Reset Seventeen, Day Fourteen

    I don't recall the exact hour, but it was well before midnight Monday, when I felt the sudden need for a nap. I expected it to last until perhaps two…

  • Reset Seventeen, Day Thirteen

    Didn't feel well Sunday, so I didn't do anything. Of course I never do anything anymore anyway, so just like any day. Except I sneezed more. It was…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.