I don’t remember where I heard the phrase “at a crossroad” used this week but when I did, I felt a hit of accuracy.
- I wish my book art skills were better.
- I wish I wrote with more passion.
- I wish I had a consistent mind.
- I wish I could focus on the work I’ve been given.
- I stand at the crossroad and forget to breathe.
- I talk to people and forget what they tell me.
- I ride a momentary high and tuck its souvenir in a library book.
- It may do someone else a lot of good but here am I
- Sending smoke signals from a new-mown butter circle
- At the crossroad
Someone, a fairly devious rescue artist and former acquaintance once asked, “Don’t you ever just “be”?” My inner Portia DeMarco raised a face and said, “What the fuck are you talking about?” He didn’t hear her.
At the crossroad, with its blessed lack of a Starbucks or a bar, I just be. It can be oddly confining. Just being.
4 comments:
Not to appear ignorant but apparently I have been living a sheltered life and so:
1. Who is Portia Demarco?
2. What is a butter circle?
My 2 cents = let it be.
Trip Hammer
1. a character in some fiction that may appear here.
2. the ring you run around the house, often with crying baby. original reference goes back to Little Black Sambo children's book
Just a friendly astrological reminder from a fellow-Virgo...mercury is retro til the 30th...things will pop after that, I swear. Tell us what's up with The Knuckle!
If one isn't careful, they might learn something new every day. So does Portia ever mow a butter ring or will I have to stay tuned to find out?
T. H.
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