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October 04, 2006
One Post to Cover It All
Clearly, Baby Dayliner hisself...
Apologies about the lack of updates. Not only am I still spinning from Ethan's incredible show last night - and the great time I had hangin' with him and the Denver kiddados both pre and post - but I've been laughing all day from an e-mail from Froxie asking, "OK. Who shit in the spinach?" That is so totally the subtitle of my autobiography. I'm thinking, "Damn Girl, Youse All Fuuuunnnny and Shit" for the main title. Yeah, I see that it uses the word "shit" twice and yep, it's a little clunky, sure, but so was "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," and we all know how THAT turned out. Cha-ching!
OK. Enough about me. (Ha! As if!) Here's a poem I ripped out of the New Yorker at the Doctor's office the other day. I'm sick of looking at it on my coffee table, but I really really dig on it. So for anyone who's ever been in love - and had it go away on you - click on through below. And for my special Cobalt chick who's having a hard time as of late with matters like this - hang on in...or come on over. I've got LOADS of wine and LOADS of make-up and LOADS of carbs...and you, my dear, are always welcome to partake in any and all of it. Besides, that freaky dude who was bothering you the other day in the park is here, and he wants to cuddle.
Perspective
They passed like strangers,
without a word or gesture,
her off to the store,
him heading for the car.
Perhaps startled
or distracted,
or forgetting
that for a short while
they'd been in love forever.
Still, there's no guarantee
that it was them.
Maybe yes from a distance,
but not close up.
I watched them from the window,
and those who observe from above
are often mistaken.
She vanished beyond the glass door.
He got in behind the wheel
and took off.
As if nothing had happened,
if it had.
And I, sure for just a moment
that I'd seen it,
strive to convince you, O Readers,
with this accidental little poem
that it was sad.
- Wislawa Szymborska
Posted by Bree at October 4, 2006 07:03 PM