Untweeted

A lot has been going on here lately. Had I not been feeling so reticent, I might’ve posted the following updates to Twitter or Facebook.

A dry high: the best weather for brewing.

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The face of an intruder caught in my flashlight’s beam in the tall weeds, pale and out-of-place as a late-season snow.

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The night after the burglary, I sit outside for hours watching fireflies in the moonlight, listening to the deer grazing: slow footfalls, loud chewing.

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A patch of dead grass where the police car had parked with its engine running, leaking coolant in the noonday heat.

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I’ve been actively flirting with disaster. Which is to say, for the first time in years I’ve been driving a car.

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The sky before a violent storm turns green just like the face of someone about to vomit.

2 Replies to “Untweeted”

    1. You mean the burglar? Still not entirely sure, but we’re hoping he’s moved on. Apparently not a local, and possibly a homeless guy. Took food and pills from my parents’ house.

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