It was the intro to "Hey That's No Way to Say Goodbye" when I noticed: the grown-ups on the blanket, so breathless they would have been tiptoed if they'd been afoot, whispering, criss-crossed, making their own little floating nest, their wrinkled sofa, the bent copier box lined with paper in the bottom for "accidents." Breathless.
It's the way an earnest five-year-old boy pronounces every single letter as he whispers. Something about octopuses, something else about peas.
Hell, I wish I could concentrate.
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Sight-seeing at an open air concert, courtesy of some prompts by Meg.
one of the greatest honors i have had in this writing life so far, is having you make such delicious use of my words. Who would have guessed 3 yrs ago when I looked at elimae and thought, " i will never get a story in there it is too good" that I would get many stories in there, and poems, and that we would be writing comrades. It is a dream come true. and what you do with the words, time and time again amazes me. Today I was walking with my fried Nicholas in the De Young Museum and I said to him, there should be an elimae room and he said YES! A white room with little stories and that kind of elegance, that magic. And okay I am rambling, but this piece is just wonderful, and it belongs in that room.
Thank you! It's been a great joy to work together.