I had lunch today with my songbird friend. On the way home I stopped into her house to hear a new song she wrote. It was beautiful, she has written some beautiful songs. In This House, Wounded Heart, Hearts in Armor, to name a few. I sat there listening, looking around marveling at the many years I’ve spent listening to songs in that house. The countless meals and all that wine and the girls in their fairy costumes and wings flitting in and around us. It didn’t break my heart like these things sometimes do.
After that I went to the market and bought some vegetables and a woman in a wheelchair was whispering something to me. I recognized her from a few weeks ago when she was selling pens on the corner of Burton Drive. She needed a quarter to buy a couple of cucumbers for someone having their period because cucumbers are good for blood clots. That’s what she was whispering about. Indelicate female issues. I gave her what change I had and picked out some cucumbers for her. It broke my heart a little.
When I left the market there was a young man wearing a filthy toga sitting on the curb talking to himself. Or maybe he was on the phone. How does one tell anymore?
I drove home and I’m roasting the vegetables, soon I’ll go pick up Mr Chips Ahoy and bring him home and squeeze him and kiss the back of his neck and he might let me though sometimes he swats me away like a fly but sometimes he laughs.
See if this don’t break your heart a little…..