By Moira Egan
Things happen when you drink too much mescal.
One night, with not enough food in my belly,
he kept on buying. I'm a girl who'll fall
damn near in love with gratitude and, well, he
was hot and generous and so the least
that I could do was let him kiss me, hard
and soft and any way you want it, beast
and beauty, lime and salt—sweet Bacchus' pards—
and when his friend showed up I felt so warm
and generous I let him kiss me too.
His buddy asked me if it was the worm
inside that makes me do the things I do.
I wasn't sure which worm he meant, the one
I ate? The one that eats at me alone?
--------
On Thursday I had to admit that I may inadvertently have fed my cats very, very late at lunchtime. Apart from that, it was a very calm day. I did a bunch of work and chores, enjoyed the magnificent cool weather, talked to neighbors, went looking for bunnies (just one baby today), and WON PUBLISHER'S CLEARING HOUSE! (if they pick my number on whatever day in June they are picking numbers, and if I actually submit the thing).
We watched the season finale of Elementary, which I did not love apart from Joan being entirely competent in Sherlock's absence; it felt manipulative, like they wanted to maneuver Sherlock into a certain place at the start of next season and couldn't come up with a really logical reason for him to be there. Jon Stewart's tribute to David Letterman was much better. Here are some photos from the National Zoo in April with Rachel:
No comments:
Post a Comment