We are waiting for something like a big balloon to fly over our house and rain gadgets down, little screens to touch that glow and illuminate our dull faces, make us smile back when it is the appropriate emotion. Yes! The machines will tell us when the fear is over and when returns to the vanished state, the disappeared streets and memories and ball games, the multi-yard night games, the invisible cities now inconceivable, the red gym shoes in the dryer thumping, the snow boats overturned on the open radiator, the canisters of juice mix, the long forgotten bedroom whispers about ghosts on Sunday night.
In other news, the band is getting back together, while The Band cannot; cheese fries can be easily made in the comfort of your own home, and Frank didn't deserve it. He really didn't.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment