Tuesday
Anxiously, constantly, ashing your cigarette; embers, then fragile soot of quickly spent memory. Dwell on a wet ash tray. Dwell on that thing from earlier today. Dwellings of the un-dealt-with: the ancient oak bar, the coarse jokes, the deafening laughter; home away from a home that we refuse to make. At the end of it is an aching question, best avoided, and let to linger till our next visit.
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it seems like you are beginning to grasp the capturing of (im)perfect moments. it's really refreshing. reminds me to breathe in more intentionally today.
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