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I bring you no thesis on the origins of your disrespect

I offer no evidence of its harms.

I refuse it because I choose to do so

I bring you my own standards for the culture we create between us.

I do not have to explain myself to you

But if you’re nice to me I would love to.

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through a telescope

March 2, 2018

February

gawd

last years ribcage

purple sunset

loafers

mended web

valentines

nittling

snow on the rooftop

snowbell

snow

snow agate

rx

lucky

mia gold

momo

up dawgs

 

 

I am just sitting here, drinking my second coffee because I am not a morning person but the dogs both are, blearily thinking about not much, except that it is beginning to look like spring and I bet the grass on the side of the house that nobody spends any time in because a) there is nothing to do there and b) if you are a dog there are tasty cigarette butts to eat there that our neighbor graciously tosses over the fence (I know, I lie awake some nights thinking about the juxtaposition of those cigarette butts, and that grass) is growing like crazy and somebody ought to do something about it.

A thought welled gently into my mind: well but those kids already took care of it. And then my body buzzed with the shock it always feels when my mind has taken a dream literally and is disappointed with the allocation of goods and services between dream and reality.

Last night I dreamed that I was looking out the front window in my craft room, and two neighborhood kids rode up in their little power wheels ride on cars. They both had retro low rider corvettes, or the following story would not have been possible.

vette

They waved at me, drove their cars summarily onto my lawn, and began to cut cookies across it. Shavings of grass flew out behind them as they went, because of course you see, the bottoms of their cars were lawnmowers. (God knows where they kept their feet, hopefully there is an inside cabin to those corvettes. I would remember from childhood but [great bitterness] nobody I knew and I were ever rich enough to see one of them in real life, although I did run into a few of the jeeps while I was still under 40lb).

Having a glorious time of course, shredding 360 degrees in clouds of grass clipping, they cut the lawn into a beautiful pattern of circles. When all the grass was cut they waved and drove over to the next door neighbor’s yard, where I expect their grass dust will kick up no cigarette butts.

Now I am sitting here with my second cup of morning coffee, facing a world where none of this happened and furthermore is not going to. They say you’re supposed to be the change you want to see in the world, but sometimes that’s just not possible.