2/9/14

Sunday, the rain

Has passed

But not the grey

the insufferable dampness coming down on the city like a blanket
or long-term relationships

Asking over and over for attention to go grocery shopping or to watch a ten seconds Youtube clip

Wavering between one’s need for warmth and the other’s intolerance for unmoving air
even with the windows opened

Reading of gloating praises of Nobel laureate and poetry as art

Art, what fucking art?

When all one wants to do is a to pass a Sunday without the vexation of boredom, the numbness of distractions and—


God damn it—just a breath of fresh air