Nineveh
the white curtain hangs partially open. i see him outside, shoveling the year's compost into the blueberry bed. the little one is in his room, pulling books out of his bookshelf, giggling all the while. i'm listening to gus black, the leaves are falling, have fallen. spiritual components rain down, i want to shove them aside in the name of wounded pride.
posted by jessica @ 1:18 PM
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