sometimes

I sleep in the bed of a man who digs trenches in the earth to grow spinach and radishes and corn.
He says that he'll be patient with me and so I can continue to play with his tiny cats. The summer feels dreamy like it always does, like waking up after a long sleep.


I Guess You Don't

It's the way that you look sometimes,
'I'll roll a cigarette and tell you about the best friend I've ever had'
and then you don't.

The look that says 'I'll tell you
about the first night together, the first snowy morning of the season,
the way snow piles up on branches and
a clear, long drive home after.'

You and your Jerusalem artichokes, your horseradishes
and all the Bleeding Hearts. Don't you know
how to hold anything back?

oh no's

the shooting party

I'm reading Esta Spalding and James Salter this summer. And Colette to learn how to write. The magnolia in front of our house bloomed this year and now the Crab Apple trees are all pinks and fuschias.

In August I am going to Berlin and Paris for two weeks. I will be seeing Molly. Last year at this time Molly was making borschts and I was making bean salads with fresh basil and corn. I am still making bean salads and hopefully Molly is still making borschts.

I think that I will always make bean salads in the summer like this
chickpeas, black beans, diced red pepper, corn and fresh basil shredded.