By David Hernandez
The donkey. The donkey pulling the cart.
The caravan of dust. The cart made of plywood,
of crossbeam and junkyard tires. The donkey
made of donkey. The long face. The long ears.
The curled lashes. The obsidian eyes blinking
in the dust. The cart rolling, cracking the knuckles
of pebbles. The dust. The blanket over the cart.
The hidden mortar shells. The veins of wires.
The remote device. The red light. The donkey
trotting. The blue sky. The rolling cart. The dust
smudging the blue sky. The silent bell of the sun.
The Humvee. The soldiers. The dust-colored
uniforms. The boy from Montgomery, the boy
from Little Falls. The donkey cart approaching.
The dust. The laughter on their lips. The dust
on their lips. The moment before the moment.
The shockwave. The dust. The dust. The dust.
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Tuesday was going to be a quiet work day for me, though everyone else in the house did lots of coming and going around me. The plumber arrived at 8:30 a.m. to fix the toilet in the kids' bathroom, which developed a leak over the weekend. Meanwhile Paul dropped the minivan off because the heater, too, had gone screwy over the weekend, though it turned out just to be that a leaf had gotten caught inside the fan system and they didn't even charge us to fish it out. So my big trip out apart from a quick walk was to retrieve the minivan, after Paul got back from having a tooth crowned and after Adam got back from school but before he went to have dinner and study with friends.
Laundry today was folded while watching Pushing Daisies -- the second episode, in which Kristin Chenoweth sings "Hopelessly Devoted To You" -- and evening TV included Glee, which I was ready to stop watching forever when Quinn was dismissed as only having rich white girl problems and which only barely saved itself by having a song from Evita, though Sectionals were as much of a joke as last year without even being intentionally funny, and there should be legislation passed that if Rachel gets to lead a song, Santana and/or Mercedes do too. I was much, much happier with the It's a Wonderful Life episode of Warehouse 13, lacking all the usual angst and religious overtones and highlighting all the relationships that make me love that show so much.
I feel like I should be quoting Roosevelt tonight but I know it'll be all over Facebook anyway. Secretary of State Clinton's U.N. speech on gay rights is worth reading/watching in its entirety if your local paper/online news source only has bits of it. Some photos from Art of Fire (which had several other artisans from the Maryland Renfaire visiting) during the Countryside Artisans Tour last weekend:
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