featuring music by The Jimmy Giuffre 3
"end of a trumpet, and drums
finished the leaning burden, burn
take time with rusted strings before
the phone is her, is quiet her
limped through low light, to her, to
arrive as if not
and the dogs not
and the candles not..."
through the blinds he iced into looking ["Did you get a chance to fix the railing?"
woolen and knee deep in an hourglass "Yeah. This afternoon."
"Awesome. My mom will be here around seven,
took a fright when first he brushed impatient so make sure you guys get cleaned up before then."]
and gestured to adjust the morning
a board-blank snow fell
as her car approached
a reluctant waiting atop the stair
left salt-soaked prints and an anagram ["When I first heard this record, I couldn't believe
how sonically pristine it was, considering it was
Jimmy Giuffre's clarinet tea steam recorded in 1961."
a bewildering greeting from Voltaire "Yeah. It sounds great in here. It's
like hearing ghosts, without the haunting."]
he dropped CANDIDE and
kicked it to her feet
conversation left napkins in the nook
and dried not a red raspberry jam ["My little brother had one when he was a kid. I think
his kindergarten teacher made it for him."
he lit a soy candle and placed it "Well then, I think it'll create a strong
between the Paddington lamp and the book historical connection in the room.
And, I think he'll like it."]
she might have seen more
on television
leaning quiet against the banister
he listened as a fabric folded ["He's got a rash again. Doctor Ferrazi said we might
have to try something new."
later he failed to swallow his food "Like what?"
and his nausea sought incense cover "Like, I don't know. Maybe we could start with some
peace and quiet."]
she used his toothbrush
and called her mother
he unveiled it late his newest art
bearing resemblance to a fair season ["Would you pose for me?"
"Can't you just take a picture, or
he touched the task with a tortured finger something?"
and stepped back from the trick oak apart "It's not the same, but I suppose so."]
a sandalwood sleep
befell her portrait
he rolled awake in cold-linen regret ["You left another stain on the sheets. I really wish you
a novel blanket of snow sparkling wouldn't eat in bed."
"Fuck you! Where would you
the bath rug knot a damp confession suggest I eat, the nook?"
soiled rags neglecting the bassinet "That's what it was intended for. But I suppose you've
conveniently forgotten about that, as well."]
fresh tracks revealed
her once again gone
he pulled the wool over his frozen feet
disengaged the hourglass alarm
in pants he dialed the babysitter ["Just tell that little bitch that she might as well keep
and established a time for them to meet him. She's practically been raising him as it is, right?
You know, I've had just about enough of this shit,
anyway. I'm going to my mom's."
"I finished the painting..."
"Great! Maybe now you can hang it on your painted,
pockmarked ass!"]
"...and I worked there
and I grew there
and I loved there...
until one day
in November of 2007
I just didn't…"
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