Monday, November 22, 2004

A fool's errand
Writing sketches of verse
While in class I sit

Ideas come skipping by
Taking my thoughts
From the droning of the proff
From the lecture and my notes

My notes run from the powerpoint
Into cursive scribbles
Revealing my true thoughts
In the lines and circles of black ink
Between the blue lines of notebook paper

But ideas they remain
Bound by fifty minutes
Bound by notes on assignments
Bound by the whispers of my friend
So they sit between the blue lines
Proof of a fool's errand
Standing in the rain
With my umbrella
Over my head

A funny umbrella
Not gray, not green
Or even blue

A strange in-between color
Like the rain and the sky

Like my thoughts
Not happy or sad
Or even melancholy

They wander slowly
In swirls and circles
Always coming down

Like the rain and the sky

Thursday, November 18, 2004

I looked at him with amusement.

"There is a big part of you that is still 6 years old."

He looked back at me with the same amusement.

"And there's a part of you that is 60 years old."

Saturday, November 13, 2004

We sat in in the parking lot facing each other in our vehicles. We looked up and could not help but notice that the woman through the next windshield was laughing hysterically. Her head was thrown back, mouth wide open, shaking with laughter. Though we had no idea what she was laughing about, the mere sight of her jollification struck us funny, and we began laughing too.

And so we sat, six people sharing the same moment of fun and laughter, though neither of us knew what the other was laughing about.
The lady bug flailed helplessly upside down on the windowsill. Pity overtook me and I helped it turn over right side up. It promptly gave up the ghost and died.

Maybe it had one wish all it's life: if only when it's time came, it could die right side up.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

I always seem to find out things that I never wanted to know about people I am acquainted with.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Only in a dream

I only know her because she sits next to me in choir. A dear, sweet, wide-eyed freshman girl, who I've only ever conversed with about choir and the music program.

Today when she walked into choir, she stopped in front of me with a curious expression on her face. She said she had dreamt about me last night. And I was not only in the dream, the dream was about me. What was I doing in the dream? I was married. And that was the main theme of the dream. That I was married. She did not know to whom I was married, but I was.

Does it mean something when you arrive in someone's dream who you do not know, and you are married?
"What's up with organic coffee? I don't get it."

"I don't know. I don't understand coffee. I just work here."

Sad converstion overheard between two baristas at a local coffee shop. I told them that they really should make an effort to understand it. Coffee is an art, and one should not make it if one does not understand it.