October 6, 2016.

Rain this morning. We walk to school. He catches up holding his umbrella with both hands. Waiting for a gap in the cars to run across the street. Waiting for a car to stop and let us cross. Once we cross, a car speeds through a deep puddle close to us. The arc of water soaks me from face to foot – splashes his shirt and shorts. Without hesitation, no thought, pure response, I raise middle finger and say motherfucker to the rear of the car as it races away. I feel anger. He laughs – wow, that car splashed me! Did you get wet?


September 2016.

Reading King-Cat. They have gone to bed. He has already been sleeping for two hours. She for one. 10.30. Sitting on the couch in the family room. I am tired. I close the book for the night. Rub my eyes. The lamplight, the lights on the electronics flicker. Then darkness.


All appliances off. All electrical hum ceases. Total silence. The streetlight in the alley is silent. And through the windows I watch the trees blow in the light of the moon. A faint rustling. A dim stir. Vibrations through glass.