2004-03-18 This town a museum of old boyfriends that sometimes I spy from behind magazine racks from beneath my mousy mop of hair. I think sometimes whether I want to disturb the scene. A handkerchiefed head down in a book. A frowny faced grocery store transaction. The crowded crosswalks uptown where i hide under the most unattractive woolen tukes. So far the choice of leaving things undisturbed. Aside: My sister and I are doing power hour and falafel making maybe perhaps this evening. My blond twinlet. She talks so loud and wobbles pitchers of beer over to the table. -------- |