10/29

Today I was struck by a number of sights that perhaps would not normally arrest my attention. However, I feel as though with each passing week I have become increasingly inspired by simplicity, exceedingly distracted by that which is considered common. With a change in seasons as the backdrop to the mornings and afternoons, I imagine most anything can be beautiful. Yesterday it rained, it rained hard. I pedaled to school, musing about rain-related idioms. My hands were freezing, my legs soaked. It took some moments to for the blood to restore feeling throughout my body once I finally entered a warm and dry room. Today I pedaled back from school and it was then I saw a mangled upside-down and inside-out umbrella, the handle sticking straight up from the street as if it had taken metal root in the hard black pavement. I remembered yesterday; I thought of today. My hands froze again, dry this time. Winter is upon us, and soon the sky will not expel cats and dogs but rather blanket the streets in snow. The wind will howl and the cold will be bitter as a woman scorned. I hope to have gloves by next week, perhaps a heavier winter coat the week after. I will try to dress for the weather.

Miss Hazel

Miss Hazel sleeps
with two eyes open:
one out the window
one on the cats.
She's lived on N. Gratz St.
her whole life,
attends church
every Sunday.
Wednesday, too.
"S'long as y'all be good
an' behave yoselves,
we be fine," she tells me from
the second floor.

Our street seldom sleeps,
Miss Hazel knows best.
Cats claw into the night,
ignitions won't turn
over as darkness
submits to the day.

We don't need cans and strings
or telephones.
Just a voice and an open window
to poke out the head,
check the scene,
shout a hello or profanity.
A "how you feelin'?" or
"Shut yo' mouth."