sunday afternoons
i think i have tricked myself into being stable with my three fish, potted plant, cookware, flannel bedding, and cardigans. somewhere in sara is the girl who wants to bust her glass bottle of clementine juice against the stone walls lining the sidewalks in Austin, and get absolutely filthy dirty in the damp brown dirt cooling the cracks between my tiny toes, and find an abandoned shoreline with a tree cemetery on it with the roots of trees once submerged under lakewater now piercing the dirt and sky sprawling out in symmetrical terrors of tree root patterns. patterns and patterns and patterns. oh man, i'm only fooling. my days are merry and bright! -thank you, Christmas. i had a great weekend with Mitch in town. okay, Burnet. i just want the time to write a poem for my friend. i don't want to read anyone's political philosophies.