Pablo Picasso: Woman with a Crow, 1904
-- the kind of day where you pull into the school parking lot after muesli and seizures and loud humming, irritated by the dog-sized crows on chicken feet slapping across the pavement, and a tired brown Christmas swag with a dirty red ribbon on the back windshield of a car. Why can't they take that off the car? you wonder, reaching in your mind for the slingshot that will knock that hopping bird from his arrogant path.
I think you need a slingshot to keep in your car. Not only for crows but for stupid month's old Christmas decorations.
ReplyDeleteThis was beautiful.
I'm with Ms. Moon. Now, if only there were a slingshot for seizures...
ReplyDeleteAh! Wonderful post! I love the idea of you with a slingshot. Really. Love.
ReplyDeleteThe christmas stuff is killing me. Is it my imagination or is it some new kind of crazy! Some statement or trend I've missed? Homes still all lit up and everything.
ReplyDeleteNo excuses here at all as the weather has been almost spring like . It's killing me.
Vacation, that's what you need. Warm water beaches and waiters with tight buns bringing you Margaritas while you debate which book you should read first and whether you want the massage before or after your nap.
ReplyDeleteI love prose poems and I love that you can make poetry out of everything and I love you.
ReplyDeleteEvery morning I drive by a murder of crows. They have set up a community in a traffic circle that I use. And yes, they are cocky buggers. I should have so much confidence.
ReplyDeleteUgh. My neighbor has a deader-than-dead Christmas tree on his front lawn, with some beads still draped around it. Depressing. And crows creep me out. I like the way you wrote about them, though. (I've never seen that Picasso before. I find it rather creepy, too!)
ReplyDeleteu ok??? :(
ReplyDeletea glass of wine this evening solves many things. or at least, in MY mind it does.
You are my literary idol. Maybe we should produce a tv show called "Literary Idol." You could be a judge. I could also be a judge but mostly sit and eat cake while you wax poetic.
ReplyDelete