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August 17, 2005
Pearls Before Swine
Older woman. A writer to the extent of Oprah and CNN appearances. A bonding to the extent of a couple weeks. I’m at her place in the heights. I’m here for the connection. I’m smoking always, I’m working through. She’s leaving for an appointment, leaving me here, gathering herself in a static, digging up a spare set of keys for me and ticking the things that care for my needs, wrapping with a rustling through the knickyknack receptics on the thick, blond wallshelves—a faceted crystal globe, maybe an earthenware, tooled leather geometrics—saying, “Now, here are the pearls, and the charms should be worth something. As much as anything in the house, anyway; I really don’t have much.” Tarnishings in the shapes of spaniels and shoes, windmills and tennis rackets, tinkle through her fingers and back down upon themselves again held. “I’m out of cash at the moment so I won’t show you that…” She’s impressive.
Posted by peligrito at August 17, 2005 10:37 PM
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