01 April 2016
the way I see it, spring is a wednesday. a thursday. summer is friday and saturday. fall is a saturday night, an all-day sunday affair. and, winter. I think we all know what winter is. winter is a monday. a tuesday, maybe. on a good day.
what I'm trying to say is, we're in wednesday territory, folks, almost to thursday. I can feel friday coming, I can feel it in my bones. the trees have all exploded, like popcorn on the side of the highway, in grocery store parking lots, in my front yard. tiny petals like white paper confetti, every time the wind blows. I find it in my hair, in the crook of my sleeve, the bottoms of my feet.
and I miss the two trees back in portland that used to explode with pink blooms every year, I really do, but now I have the popcorn tree in my front yard. I can watch it out my front window just like I did with the two trees back in portland. I can point my polaroid camera at things, try to hold onto it as long as I can, as I am wont to do, but the blooms are gone in a second. it's the confetti it leaves behind on our driveway, though. I walk over it on my way to check the mailbox at the end of our drive and I am reminded.
friday. friday is almost here.