Dinner was a peanut butter sandwich on toasted oat nut bread. Earlier I ate the last of the ice cream sandwiches I bought a few weeks ago. It was probably too much sugar. There will be more sugar when I eat a bit of chocolate before bedtime. I could skip it, but have grown so accustomed to having some every night that I'm not sure I could even sleep without it. There's not much of my old routine left in my life, and I hate to lose even more of it, even for only one night.
The calendar sneaked up on me, and I just realized that I need to get my rent check in the mail. As Monday and Tuesday might bring rain I suppose I ought to run out and drop it in the mailbox tomorrow. And perhaps while I'm out I might go a bit farther and pick up some stuff I'll soon be needing which I can get at Dollar Tree. I'd intended to leave it until after the rain, but that will be too late for the rent check, and if I have to go out for that anyway I might as well hit the store too.
Since places like the sporting goods store have reopened it's possible that the Goodwill store has been reopened too, and Sunday is their half price tag sale day, but I'm pretty sure going there would be a bad idea. It's really too soon for all these stores to be opening. I can't avoid going to get stuff I really need, but the Goodwill store only has stuff I want, and I can't justify going into a petri dish just to satisfy a desire for more books I don't need.
Saturday was the peak of the current heat wave, but Sunday is still expected to be quite hot, so it is likely that later today I will have to use the air conditioner for the first time this year. I'll need a shower in the morning,
and there's no way I'm doing that in an apartment that will probably still be well over seventy degrees. I must remember to turn it off before I go out to drop off the mail though. I'm always forgetting things like that, and end up paying to cool an empty apartment for an hour or two. Coming in from the heat I won't notice a couple of extra degrees.
It'snot cooling down very fast inhere right now, but it's grown fairly pleasant outside, plus the mockingbird is giving another nocturnal recital. I might go out and sit for a while, since its still a bit too early to go to bed. Maybe I'll make something cool to drink, and watch the waning moon ride west with no stars for company. I do miss my dark, starry nights on the ridge.
by Albert Goldbarth
If you write a poem about love ...
the love is a bird,
the poem is an origami bird.
If you write a poem about death ...
the death is a terrible fire,
the poem is an offering of paper cutout flames
you feed to the fire.
We can see, in these, the space between
our gestures and the power they address
—an insufficiency. And yet a kind of beauty,
a distinctly human beauty. When a winter storm
from out of nowhere hit New York one night
in 1892, the crew at a theater was caught
unloading props: a box
of paper snow for the Christmas scene got dropped
and broken open, and that flash of white
confetti was lost
inside what it was a praise of