Saturday, May 2, 2009

This is life.

This is what it's like to ride home to the farm hot-cheeked and smiling, eyes-closed, sprawled on a barley pillow in the covered bed of a pickup truck next to a guitar, a box of tools, a sandbag, and dirty potluck plates at 11pm after a May Day party where you acted the part of "the ladder" in an impromptu play put on by two little girls with freckles and short bangs respectively, who called themselves Brazil from China and something clever you can't remember, soon after which you left for a delicious gingery drink and hot water for tea poured mistakenly into your drinking glass at a magical gem of a restaurant tucked away in what seemed like an abandoned parking lot.


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