It Makes Me Think of Museums Full of Artwork That Hold Nothing but Timeless Paintings

Sky Quotes

It makes me think of museums full of artwork that hold nothing but timeless paintings, skies that will always be blue, full of people that will always be recognized as someone as part of a narrative. The feeling of now still hits me sometimes when I’m reading a newspaper, or holding one, when I’m out walking on a day that’s not quite right, its clouded and yet hot ånd bright, and I can only think of moving my feet, of parting the åir with my nose ånd moving.

Peppermint and parsley wafting up from a warm vent in the sidewalk, the sky grumbling hungry like the morning.

On things I cannot bear,

I cannot bear watching the sun slant down and birds fly into it, wings flashlights for a second in daylight, it triggers memories of that dead end spot on the hiking trail, the spot where the bulldozers had grown tired and left sandy piles of dirt to heat up under the last of summer when I realized the trail was really a man made road and that the bulldozers were going to come back.

I cannot bear the transition wind, between season wind, I felt that wind once on the way back from my gramma ann’s house when I was a girl, my mother was driving and I was thinking of going to the beach, I couldn’t wait for summer, so we could go to Sherwood Island, I was wearing a lavender blouse that tied on the shoulders, my bare arms felt the wind, my hair was finally growing out, it was still too cool for the window to be down.

I knew something was strange, why had she made iced tea for us, it was the best iced tea I’ve ever had, I have always hated waiting, but why were we there that day, my mother and I? What was it that my mother was hiding from me?

I cannot bear watching cars, it makes me watch for people who are not going to come back.

I cannot bear the smell of microwave popcorn- I think of Stephanie counting calories

I cannot bear becoming paranoid of finding cockroaches in my clothes, I never use to have to shower twice a day.

Looking up to see the navy blue of the sky, the trees against it 3D with streetlight, I’ve been counting down the days and at the same time trying to remember pieces of them, even if they were only my turning around and looking up at the sky before going inside and then leaving again.

I’ve been trying to not forget the color of the steps, the color of the windows lit.

The sky a hazel kind of brown.

Damm that direct light, spot on, so if you stood under it ever pimple, poc, pore,

Little hair, snoz noodle would be exposed, the 1970’s yellow light, too dull bright.