novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- lean it all right. on absence there was an exceptionally long line at the grocery store, for 8 pm on a wednesday evening. i stood in line leaning against bottle after bottle of pasta sauce, cradling my salad dressing and di's bagels. onion. in front of me an ancient woman in a beige parka sang a chant under her breath. i admired her fedora and tried to keep the feather in its brim from attacking my face. two children in line behind me. a five year old girl as tall as my waist and her ten year old brother, tall as my shoulder. the girl stood close to my side, leaned into me whenever people squeezed by. she had a cough, a messy ponytail and a purple windbreaker like b's. i had to fight to keep myself from putting an arm around her. we stood in line for twenty minutes; no parents in sight. i studied them out of the corner of my eye. bedhead, wide eyes. the boy was holding two packages of lunchables, shifting them in his grip. he kept one eye on his sister as she edged closer to me, the woman's chanting growing louder. they distracted me completely but once i got to my car i rubbed my neck and realized that i am trying not to think about the doctor's appointment tomorrow, about what they may find during the exam. trying and failing. this is the appointment i cancelled twice before. tonight i am quiet and mumbling. easily distracted. moreso than usual, i mean. the window just lit up for an instant. the glass is shaking. there is thunder, the sound of my upstairs neighbors padding across the floor to watch the cloudless dark break. i don't understand how it can rain when the sky seems clear, or at least only slightly patchy. last week it started raining while the sun-- did you know mick jagger has approximately twelve children? sometimes i remember this when i listen to let it bleed. what? 9:13 pm - 02.25.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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