Saturday. I have a poem called Saturday which is refusing to cooperate and be rewritten. That's where I find myself on this Saturday thinking about some other collection of Saturdays. Thus I'm non-plussed.
It's almost 3 p.m. and I've manage to drop off my laundry, walk to BK Heights to mail off a submission (c'mon cross yer toes for me!) ate breakfast at Boca Lupa, went to look for a new shirt (but didn't find anything)for dinner tonight at La Esquina, read a little Brian Kim Steffans, and now listening to Asobi Seksu and seriously thinking about taking a nap.
(do you ever imagine if you had a lover how your days would be different?)
Not the most productive Saturday but like the poem it seems to have its own design on how the day writes itself.
Thus I'm non-plussed x 2.
etc, etc, etc.
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