By Lisa Ciccarello
Here is how I control my heart: I string each thought one behind the next, like beads.
I wear the answers I am waiting to give. The jewelry becomes heavy as soil.
My long blink is a scream & a yes. There are things I have to say, but they do not yet know the questions they must ask. & a blink is no word; if they misunderstand—
A heart is just soil. Ask anyone. A heartbeat is a blink. A long blink is a scream. A longer blink is sleep. All night I am screaming.
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Still wrangling laptop which is taking forever to sync my Google Drive, still working on various other chores that didn't get done yesterday while downloading programs. Not a lot to report from my day apart from a lovely long lunch at Mirch Masala in the mall with my friend Mel after raiding a Suicune and a Porygon, both of which I caught. Plus I walked in the park.
Rose visited us and the cats, then we watched some college football (don't quiz me on the games) and Designated Survivor, which now apparently wants to be Madam Secretary but has less well characterized family members and too many petty conspiracies. Here are some photos from Brookside Gardens a few weeks ago when the leaves were still very shiny:
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