Abandoned scooters leaning brokenly against a parking meter. Afternoon skies full of subtle threats. No cloud outlines; just gray smears. Walking by a iron-wrought bench with a statue of Johnny Appleseed. Barefoot and offering a faded piece of fruit. This was an alleged ancestor, if my father was to be believed. Touched by water droplets, I am filled with embarrassment. And then confusion at my dismay. It begins to rain, and the dirty shower washes my heart clear of emotion. Loud and insistent, the cry of cicadas follow me down the street as I leave the monument behind. The spires of a chapel invite the lightning, so not far away. I return to sepia halls and unwashed sheets.
9:43 a.m. - 2019-09-18
Recent entries:
Fettered Fidgeting - 2019-10-09
Diminished Siblings - 2019-10-04
Too Many Inane Words - 2019-10-02
Brain Bruises - 2019-09-26
Cosmetically Made - 2019-09-26
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