Friday, August 10, 2007

Insects as the kind that waddle, I know the future because I let it bother me, hoping for alternative methods of prayer: listening carefully and hearing a marching bands pass. An elderly woman moves out of her apartment. No action, appalling heights or those who conquer them. Other havens, the mother’s apartment and noticing the dialect, the story has been related as we trust one another to tell us the truth. We may trust our advisors, those without time, and then there are those around us.
Setting or sitting I entertained myself and preformed as I might in public, slightly confident and talkative, loud and able to hold and answer all questions relevant. And we see what we’re looking for, what we’re told we see. As children, our conversations run against measure. Tonight the cat ate a mound of used up garlic, cooked in olive oil so the olive oil would retain some garlic flavor. I’m not sure if it worked out but the tomatoes were good in the salad and it’s hard to know what happens when what happens won’t speak up.