It's been the least favorite word of the year. How can anyone make plans in a season of recurrent apocalypse? Rather, let's say There will potentially be oatmeal for breakfast or Travel is a mood you can wear on a treadmill. We burned all our sparklers two years ago but we've discovered the charms of charcoal briquettes. Leaf after leaf came off the tree, not any of them a multiple choice item. Did you notice no one asks anymore if this is a test? This is just a folding chair. That is an orange umbrella. We have always loved the word exquisite; statues with missing limbs, bottles resting on their sides in dark cellars. Waking up with some ache that we like to say is proof we're alive.
“Waking up with some ache that we like
to say is proof we’re alive.”
This is a beautiful poem.
Thank you!