...since I've had the time, I'll let myself go with it. I have wild gray hair and the weathered skin I've forever been warned about. At least 8 cats. Maybe I wear smocks, with pockets. Brilliant sunsets in a dusty trailer park. Nothing in my backyard but the desert and a front yard full of original "sculptures" -- collages of found objects -- rusting, fading in the relentless sun. My hands. I have seen their future. Thick, curled. Gnarled artifacts of devotion.
No comments:
Post a Comment