wanderlust
words…
Would it be so hard to stay up after midnight and then awaken in the morning refreshed?
wanderer
hosta…
sugar in expresso…
I cleaned the shit off my pink high-tops and drove home, stopping for an espresso at the coffeehouse across from the college. Men and women were hunched over copies of Jean Paul Sartre and writing in their journals. Most wore the thin-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses favored by intellectuals. Their clothes were faded to a precisely fashionable degree; you can buy them that way from catalogs now, new clothes processed to look old. The intellectuals looked at me in my overalls the way such people inevitably look at farmers.
I dumped a lot of sugar in my espresso and sipped it delicately at a corner table near the door. I looked at them the way farmers look at intellectuals.
mary rose o’reilley
under water…
in the ivy…
what if…
What if every little thing you do subtly alters the course of world history? You do know that it does, right?
wanderer