and the good that we have all done is already written down
. 1am. Eyes wide open.
. Where is my toque? Did I leave it at the bar? In the cab? They can’t remember if I was wearing it. I check under the bed cause Ani likes to steal things. I find a lost chapstick instead.
. The way the snow is heavy and wet and quiet,
how it rests on every tree limb.
Feels like a Mary Oliver poem.
Does anyone catch snowflakes on their tongue anymore?
. Nous échangeons des photos de nos vues enneigées.
. We huddle in the back of the art museum and share our stories in loud whispers. She touches the art. She does what she wants, always. I follow her around, taking her photo, pointing to my favourites. We never have shared the same tastes.
. Still with the butterflies. Her mom called them flutter-byes.
. I DID leave my toque at the bar.
. It’s hard to be engaged in tonight’s science talks. Lack of sleep has caught up and I’m crashing.
. She reminds me that our 2 year friend-iversary just passed. Two years! We joke that we are dating each other, but really we are just an old married couple.
. Tarot + mint tea + Killing Eve.