A quiet breakfast
watching the waves
I heard something
unexpected
a honk?
a swan?
here?
yet it was
and it was just one.
Later, driving out
we passed a rabbit
lying in the narrow shade
of a streetlight pole
I felt lucky
not being alone
this morning. »
The streets seemed familiar
well-intentioned over-planning
leaving little room for wonder
beyond the quaint bus stops
I tried to match places to prior memories
and wondered about my mood
last time I was there.
Atop one hill
An American chased a magpie
with his camera
I tried to warn him
they don’t follow instructions.
Atop another
a strange building
the kind you hope
might survive us all
and confound our ancestors. »
I took a dumpling-making class
mostly to keep my hands occupied
and to get myself out
doing something different
with people I didn’t know.
I kneaded, and flattened, and rolled
while 70’s country music played softly
worried I might sing out loud
if a Marty Robbins song appeared.
I guess I’ll die with this fever in my soul. »
I took the bus to a nearby suburb and walked up a hill I hadn’t visited in years to a quiet area of pine trees. Just me and a few dog walkers. I stood behind a tree stump and bathed in the cold sun, while a currawong sang overhead. An old man passed by, complaining about the trees blocking the lovely view of the valley that could once be seen from here. »
a phone’s alarm
i wake up screaming
“ah, ah, …”
catching my breath
and fumbling for my phone
oh
it’s the other guy in the cabin
he switches it off
leaves the train
at the next town
I fall asleep again
somehow
waking to greenery
and a voice selling breakfast
from a tiny trolley
bánh bao nhân thịt miến. »