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Coffee: Maxwell House Master Blend, Office Coffee
All of us thought there’d be a storm. We heard it on the weather; common gossip on customer’s lips. And for a while it looked like the sky would crack like torn-up asphalt, but in the end the clouds cleared.
Every so often I go back to Greece. Not physically, of course. We got caught in showers coming down Mt. Olympus. They slicked up the ice toward the top and made it run. I wonder if that ice is still up there? The world’s a lot warmer than it used to be.
I walked by our apartment pool and it was full of people sun-bathing. Or drowning the week’s worries under five feet of water. They looked like skinned fishes in a Saturday market. They had pocks on their backs and matted hair. One family had a dog.
I like the sound a storm makes just before it arrives. The whip of air. Frantic quiet.
Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller
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Older Fags and Younger Fags, Like Legally Young. Daddies. Zeus and Ganymede.
Michelle Tea, Black Wave
Ganymede was a child, Ziggy schooled her.
Yeah, You Were There, Michelle retorted, On Mount Olympus. You Were Working the Door. You Carded Ganymede.
Livesay Writing 