Eeksy-Peeksy

augury doggerel

Wednesday, February 13, 2002

Snow, Sun, Timbuktu

Last night, the kid's game was to pack our things and drive to Los Angeles. I don't know how she heard of the place. Los Angeles is a concrete Timbuktu, a cement Samarkand, and, from here, it would be harder to drive to. But we packed the creepy plastic baby and the cheap guitar and a book of poems, got some spare house keys, put the baby in the trunk, started up the couch, and bounced to Los Angeles, where we danced a sort of martial-arts ballroom-dancing bum-shaking sock-sliding dance to the same frantic song four times straight before driving home and practicing piano.

The wind was strong just now, snow blasted in, but the damned sun is back and the snow is gone. Too much spring already creeping through the grass.

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