Tuesday, January 31, 2012

I'm from Iowa. So, winter is a weird time to feel warm. But here we are with all these things; Iowa, warmness, winter, weirdness. On the upside? Walking. I'm walking a lot more. And bumping into people I know, and giving away more donuts than I ever have. I only really mean one of those things.

Do you have a dog? I want a dog. My landlord, though, he doesn't think I should have a dog. My landlord isn't going to get a donut. Do you remember when we were kids and we used to find dogs and make them come home with us? How it worried our mothers? How it worried the dogs? We, though, for those glorious few hours, owned our own dogs. But then our dads would come home and untie them and let our dogs run back to where ever it was they came from. And that night, after our baths, we would dream about what kind of dog we would own tomorrow. Mine was medium-sized with brown hair just like mine. Yours you kept a secret, like some kind of birthday wish that had a real chance of coming true if it was only you who knew about it.

The sun is setting and, in a too-long parade of cars, drivers and passengers are either singing or fighting. I've never been too good at telling those things apart. I mean, the orange helps me with the sunset, but the rest is just faces gathered clumsily around some feelings. They are like apples to me, these faces; without the proper labeling, anyone could be sweet and crunchy, or mealy and full of regret.

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