September 21, 2013

Smooth glide into morning, the dark cool and silky, my mind uncharacteristically at rest. Late dreams of the Trojan War, as DJ and I had watched Helen of Troy in the evening, which we agreed was not nearly so bad as it could have been. The war melded into choir camp, wherein we were all heaped asleep on the floor, and I was trying to tell the time on a spherical clock which kept rolling away from me.

The stinkbugs had their victory, in that whatever harm the poison spray was doing to them, I got blow-back, and staggered around almost unable to walk for several hours. It can incapacitate people, if not bugs.

My brain almost annihilated by bad turn of event after bad turn event, does not know what to do with itself. This is not an altogether evil sensation. Even at this hour new things can enter.

Beautiful moonrise, pink, the moon smeared and indefinite with clouds, yet still very bright.

Oh, summer: I would keep you.