Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Seventy-One
The birds are right on time.
This level of soreness within the body is not normal. Can’t possibly be.
So many things I intended to complete remain undone.
I tell her it’s just that I’m not ready for the stress to return, yet. Everything is going to change again.
I put up the umbrellas, and now there’s a big pool of shade. And it’s a little thing that’s really a big thing.
Our sacred circle.
Maybe a new-moon vision-board gathering is needed.
It’s not what I would normally do on a Thursday night, but the conditions are right. The conditions are rarely ever right.
Chispa. Centenario margaritas. Al pastor tacos. Nachos. Mexico vs. South Korea.
I knew I liked her for a reason.
