Apr 29
The day begins, ends, with Schubert.
For this, an LBD, slinky,
not tradwife – Franz would not be wowed
by ruffles or cowlike florals.
How would you know anything of
composers, says Mister. Nothing
wrong with a woman who knows how
to dress like a lady. We pour
glasses of Ruinart – one for
me, one for Franz - and wait until
the second movement of the fifth,
our favourite, before we sip.
Apr 22
The river runs through the neighbour’s
backyard, east to west, then dips south,
missing our yard completely. We’ve
never seen it, but we’ve heard it
alright; it sounds just like Mr’s
voice, whispering, as though he were
telling secrets in the garden,
things we should know but never will.
That’s Mr for you, always plays
his cards close to his chest, we’d say,
if the river came close enough
to give us a hint, its pssshpsssh
no longer mysterious but
making sense at last, while we get
on our knees with gratitude for
the warning we knew was coming.
Apr 18
There You Go, part 2
Why do you not trust, we say to
ourselves, though the truth is that we
have looked through every closet,
nook and cranny in search of - we
admit this – things we lost, lost things,
things of which we were the steward
and we’ve no idea what went
wrong. We’ve found the missing Barbie
doll, the glass tabletop that went
awry, even eclipse glasses.
It takes a week before it dawns
on us that we threw our missing
cheap-ass earrings into the leaves
of a potted ficus at the
mall. If we go looking for them
out of curiosity, please
please please do not let us find them.
