seethingblue's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- patterns The rain is staying away from this house. I understand completely. This house is cursed, I think. Nothing works anymore--not the hot water or the small appliances--even the handheld can opener has rusted over. There are two blood red flowers growing out of the monkey grass in the front yard. They have survived and flourished even without the rain. The steps of the porch are crumbling into dust but I stand on them anyway--I study the flowers with one hand shielding my eyes from the sun. They look like irises but I know they're weeds. It doesn't even matter anymore. I think of offering them to the ghosts that are breaking things, poking holes in the screens of windows to let in flying palmetto bugs and brown spiders. Or maybe I will put them in a glass tumbler full of tap water on the kitchen table. My day is the distance from the door to the mailbox. In a parallel universe maybe I live in a small cottage with floral print curtains. Maybe in this parallel universe I am never alone--have loads of things to do--all this philosophy steaming out of me in long conversations--and I never fear the phone and phonecalls-- I think I will somehow be living in this house in the future sometime. Things will have changed like patterns and carpets and tablecloths but the view from the porch will be exactly the same. 13:27 - 12 May, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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