Take what you get, man

Sometimes you just have to get back to butter. And I did today. Basic, just cream, whipped, salted.

Good butter, you can just enjoy on its own terms.

Ronny came over and helped. He made tequila sunrises. I enjoyed them.

We talked, about things. I got a little loose with my words and told him a few prison stories. Oh well.

We enjoyed butter on toast, and also on some sweet corn from Ronny's garden. We lived. We learned.

These days, the end of summer, are wonderful. A time to be cherished. Soon enough there will be reason to fret again. But not today! Today, only joy.

Tomorrow, well, let us not think of that today!

Possibilities

Last night, no sleep. Today, tired. Today, saying no, to dogs, to friends, to everyone. Today, rest. Curt, today, nothing. Tonight, there is a full moon. What does that mean? Anything? We are made of blood and water. Water and blood. Our insides are like the tides. Somebody told me that once. Or maybe it was from a Bob Dylan song. Maybe I saw it in a vision. Damn, I can't remember.

Today, all the boxes were gone. Into the apartment down the hall, I'm assuming. But today, I didn't leave my door open. I closed it. I took a long nap. I woke up to a knock, which I didn't answer. Possibilities--the police, Ronny, a vacuum salesman. Who's to say if it is better to know, or not to know? Today, not me. I chose inaction.

"Hello?"a voice said. "How are you doing?"

I didn't say anything.

"I"m Sam, your neighbor."

I didn't say anything.

"Ok," Sam said, "talk to you later."

Sam. A Briton. Probably enjoys tea. Perhaps chess. Possibilities. Possibilities.

Cracked

Today, I drank coffee from a mug that had a crack in it. At first, I thought I was just being careless with my coffee and that I was spilling coffee on my leg because I was moving the mug too quickly. So, I slowed down. Then, I thought that maybe I had been a sloppy pourer, and that the coffee puddles on the kitchen table appeared from coffee running down the side of the mug. So, I took a paper towel and wiped the outside of the mug. But coffee kept appearing in places where it shouldn't have been appearing. So, I examined the mug and found a hairline crack running down its side. When I saw the crack I exclaimed: "Geez-o-pete!"

I switched mugs and enjoyed the rest of my coffee. Then, I wrote this haiku:

There are many cracks-

like the thin crack in my mug-

in the life we live.