Monday, May 02, 2005

Winter won't let go

She keeps calling to see if we can still be friends.

And yet it is the blissful moment on campus between one in the libraries, on the diag, and there are parking spaces for all. Under the heavy wonderment of clouds with the trees still pushing and blooming a varied green, the town lays sleepy after a weekend-long ravishing. The horrible children in their horrible Land Rovers and BMWs, maize tassels bouncing and kicking as they go off into the sunset. And me, once again left covered in coleslaw, with corned beef in my hair and palms held open for grace, helping the wheels of industry go round and round, round and round, round and round.

For what, you ask? For hand-collected, naturally-occuring, "wildflowers" of Brittany Coast salt, silly! I can't afford it anymore, and my former employer carries the best of it.