I just saw a meteor drop down the western sky. It must have been somewhere over the Pacific. I've always wanted to see one land nearby. Not like right on the house, mind you, but maybe on a lawn up the block, or something. It's quite unlikely, I know, but if my brother can be struck by lighting while riding his motorcycle (which he was, a number of years ago,) I see no reason why the universe could not arrange for me to see a meteorite blast a crater (just a small one) in a neighbor's yard. Yes, things get pretty dull around here. Aside from the distant meteor, the most dramatic thing to happen tonight was three raccoons passing by, inducing the dogs to bark. Yesterday, the most exciting thing was a pair of crows chasing each other, swooping and soaring and squawking as though they were on an amusement park ride. I'm desperate for entertainment, here! The exhilaration of getting one end of my room cleaned up has worn off, the cats are sleeping, and Sluggo won't stay connected to the Internet long enough for me to find any interesting
porn web sites. Furthermore, my heat-addled brain is too fuzzy to provide me with any distraction, and is certainly incapable of any sustained effort of concentration, such as would be required for reading. Oh, dog days. Just one little meteorite? Please!
All afternoon, the coveted tufts of white cloud hung motionless, rendered the distance tantalizing. In their dissipation, they are a yellow haze. The shadows have all gone, and all the green darkens where an unseen evening bird chirps. The neighbor's web of hammock lies slack, fades into bush and bole. Three white chairs sit empty, though a slight rustling of leaves suggests a conversation of ghosts. A black cat slinks toward the orchard. A sprinkler ticks somewhere and moistens the warm air with the scent of damp grass. The haze turns rose, lavender, violet. The last crow has left the sky to the unseen owls. The thought comes to me that summer is like a Moebius strip. I have no idea what that means. It's time to go in.