outwait outrun outwit


an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile


The bar on Saturday was packed with young wans. They broke all the rules: no social distancing, more than 6 at a table, mixing at tables, trying to order at the bar. I needed more than a face mask, I needed a body bubble ball.

I haven't much to say. The hours are noisy: the mother-in-law cleaning, the husband on the phone, the radio on. A funeral we must attend, a funeral we missed. Interruptions are plentiful. Mute and watchful, I feel stranger by the day, cloven-footed, my hair a nest of raven caws. On my walks, I scan the evening sky staring at whorls of birds, inkspots coelescing in a language I’ve forgotten.

The other night I saw two girls huddled on the pavement, staring into a phone, giggling in a conspiratorial manner, and I smiled for the first time that day.


hosted by DiaryLand.com

Web Analytics Made Easy -