rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


It gets dark so early now, and by the clock will get dark even earlier when daylight saving time ends later this month. Already the time left before nightfall is too little for the things I think I should do when I get home from shopping on Sunday. And it will be more than four months before there is as much daylight as there was today. It's odd that when I used to sleep half the day I don't recall ever having shortage of light at the end of autumn and winter days, but now that I do more of my sleeping by night the shortening of the day is aggravating. I'd have expected it to be the other way around.

Ah, well. Reality is confusing, and my reactions to it even more so. I suppose it doesn't matter that I didn't get another pile of leaves raked this evening. I've got five good-sized piles that will probably be too much to fit into the wheelie bins this week anyway, and if there is rain later in the week any additional piles would just get soggy and then fail to dry out before the next yard waste pickup day. Leaves still astrew dry out much quicker. No doubt we'll have some more sunny days, maybe even a few more very warm days, before the really cold weather sets in and puts the nights ashiver with chilly winds.

Oh, Safeway was out of the cat food that was on sale that I intended to stock up on so I'll have to go back, and by Tuesday, which is the last day of the sale. How annoying. I hope they have it in stock by then or I'll have wasted a trip. I punished them by removing a bunch of stuff from my list and buying it as the other store instead. Eventually the other store will piss me off some way and I'll take stuff off my list there and buy it at Safeway. Yes, I know this is futile, but it makes me feel better for a day or two. Eventually I will die and the store I was pissed off at last will take the hit. I won't be around to care, but I hope I remember it in my last moments and say That'll teach you! It will be sufficiently enigmatic to serve as some pretty good last words.

Sunday Verse

The End

by Arkaye Kierulf

You must have felt it working in your bones. It's begun: The papers
print the same stories over and over, and have you checked

the obituaries? Already, nobody remembers

how their first kiss went. The phone keeps ringing and ringing
when nobody's home. Between our skins is a necessary friction

that separates us forever. Look: space. Somewhere, a lost key. It's begun:
What was once the wind or an echo or an accidental sweetness

is now a bird outside your window singing with perfect pitch and timbre
the song that's on all our tongues, cut. What pulls from the earth to exist

the earth pulls back into itself: this and this and this is mine. You own nothing.
Our bodies breathe to a rhythm, to one direction, to one regression. It's begun:

The truth stares us down like an owl: There's no place to go: You own nothing.

In the dark you hear movement — a squeak, a hiding. The heart opens, closes, opens.


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