Friday, January 26, 2007

number 35

food & thought
Me and the old man ate our sandwiches, thinking about mom's empty space at the table as she was hurtling through the jet stream air on a plane back to us in the hands of strangers and the God we asked the meal's blessing from and he wiped things from his moustache and we laughed and I collected some crumbs from what he let fall from his mouth, swept them up into my pocket, seven syllables apiece that sit together, now telling something about our day working out in the bright, cold world.


Things Dad Said Today
"They've got bright blue plummage."
"People don't do what they should."
"Pilot holes are for sissys."

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