By Alfred Corn
They'd started meeting by night at the only local,
A seething crowd drawn from among the loudest
Words, swearing, conspiring, over tankards of ale.
In sour chiaroscuro their clenched faces by moments
Looked too grievance or was it expressive for comfort.
Rage drowns out background sounds such as summer
Crickets, the result, that one of them, in humid
Darkness, stops rasping his metal comb. It's clear
That the rally of Words will turn demonic,
That before night ends they'll be up in arms.
Even the rawest learner can in a clock tick
Become aware of the name it's called by. Which
He tries on Cricket Cricket till he thinks: Your name
Amounts to a sound, nothing more. Trundling on
Towards the defiant Words, he says, No. No, I Am Deuce.
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I had a somewhat chaotic Friday, but all our trip laundries are done, even the towels! And all my photos are saved on Flickr! And the cats are finally calming down after starting to meow early in the morning and keeping it up all day as a reminder of their neglect! I did not get anything accomplished besides catching up, but that still felt like a lot. And I watched all the celebrity ice bucket challenges I had missed.
Adam had plans with various friends, most of whom are leaving for college within a week, so I took Daniel out to lunch in the new, unrecognizable mall food court, and we watched Captain America: The First Avenger while I folded the aforementioned laundry. After dinner we all caught up on Legends and John Oliver's show in between talking on the phone with my in-laws who are home from their travels out west!
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