Oh man. It's hot again today. I have the fan on high. My legs are sticking to the chair, and my head feels 100 degrees because the little engines in there are stuck in one place. I keep taking out and putting back in the same stupid line. And I know I will do that from now until this poem is published or thrown out. Whine. But I can't wait until fall is really here. My sister sent me this photo from Maine to make me jealous. Just looking at it, I can taste the salt in the air and smell the pines. I bet it's a Northwest day, cool enough for a sweater . . . If it's not, I'll put on a wetsuit and take a dive in the ice cold water . . .
Of course I have nada to complain about. Suzanne calls from El Salvador where there are no seasons. It's either hot or hotter.
3 comments:
It is finally becoming fall here in Georgia, though some nights I question it. Sometimes I miss the clouds of Ohio, the pumpkins sweaters etc... This picture is beautiful btw.
i hear it's going to be in the seventies all week now! as long as it's not THE 70's all week. that could get ugly.
Nin:
I am thinking about setting up a reading at a good bookstore in Ann Arbor. Since you have a new book coming out (and are, I think, within driving distance), I thought you might be interested in reading with me. If so, e-mail me at grapplepoet@mac.com so we can discuss this.
I would be happy to make all the necessary preliminary contacts to see if the place I have in mind is interested.
Thanks!
Greg Rappleye
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