Wednesday, August 20, 2014
We shelter in ourselves an angel
whom we constantly shock.
Those who restrain desire do so
because theirs is weak enough
to be restrained.
At the doughnut shop, I waited in line to buy a sesame bagel, toasted, with cream cheese, bacon and tomato.
A woman in an arm brace, the kind used for carpal tunnel syndrome, sat at a small table with an autistic man. He ate a powdered donut with jelly oozing out, and she played with three figs on a napkin.
The young man in front of me had a tattoo on his arm that read I Do The Wrong Things For The Right Reasons.
I might begin a How We Do It post with these lines that I heard Lorrie Moore say that night I went to hear her read:
How can it be described? How can any of it be described?
The trip and the story of the trip are always two different things.