ME AND CAROLINE PICARD LEFT OUR HOOK HANDS STUCK TO THE TOP OF YOUR CAR BECAUSE WE WANTED AN EXCUSE TO CALL YOU
Having waited for the hour that was just after dinner, but before bed, Caroline braided her hair into two ropes falling over her shoulders and down to her ankles. She pushed spoons and forks into the braids so they would form a sailor’s ladder up the mast of her body to her skull where the blond hair pulled and the scalp turned red. Caroline walked in the muddy sunset light to the middle of a nearby field where sometimes kids played soccer and sometimes they flew kites and sometimes they would lie in the grass and make sense of the clouds. Caroline stood in the middle of the field and invited the buzzing bugs and spastic flies to climb these ladders. She invited them to make a home in her hair. To nest and cuddle. Her only hope, that when it turned dark, their bodies would light up and she would have made for herself a crown on fire.
ME AND JILL SUMMERS LOVE WHEN SILLY LITTLE CHILDREN WITH JELLY ON THEIR FINGERS AND AROUND THEIR LIPS ASK US IF WE KNOW HOW TO GET TO SESAME STREET BECAUSE YES, WE DO KNOW, WE ARE NOT SHARING AS THAT IS PRIVILEDGED INFORMATION THAT YOU HAVE TO EARN
Jill stood akimbo considering the cardboard box of 12 adorable kittens that had seemingly been abandoned next to this here dumpster. She counted them three times to make sure that it was an even dozen and not a baker’s dozen with one extra kitten thrown in for fun. She counted her hands, she had two. She counted her pockets, she had five. That added up to seven and still left five kittens meowing and pawing and the walls of cardboard and turning their noses at that sour garbage smell. Jill hunched down so it looked as though she was sitting in an invisible chair and she set one kitten on each thigh and one on each shoulder and one on top of her head. And she walked home like this. Delightfully weighted down by 12 adorable, cuddly and fuzzy cutie pie little kittens.
ME AND NATALIE EDWARDS ARE GOING TO KNOCK YOU OUT BECAUSE OUR MOTHERS REQUESTED THAT WE KNOCK YOU OUT
Natalie held the taco in her right and a 32 oz Coca Cola in her left. The taco quickly losing it’s battle for existence in the fury of Natalie’s bites and intermittent nibbles to catch any stray thread of avocado or onion or cheese or bean juice or sour cream or tomato or onion or cilantro or salsa or jalapeño or grease. She held the straw of the Coca Cola close enough so that any coughing or wrong tube emergency would be easily remedied by the ready availability of carbonated delight. Natalie was sitting in this corner booth celebrating the end of a raw and red sunburn that had lived and died on her shoulders. The resulting sepia tones of her skin showed no sign of the peeling, the shedding of skin that seemed to last weeks. Now her shoulders were smooth and soft and just aching to be touched by fabric. She was celebrating the morning, when she pulled her cardigan over her shoulders and slipped it off again, the grinding pain noticeably absent. She repeated the action. Cardigan on, cardigan off. She felt every little fiber of the cotton move over her skin. She repeated the action to feel it again. And again.
Having waited for the hour that was just after dinner, but before bed, Caroline braided her hair into two ropes falling over her shoulders and down to her ankles. She pushed spoons and forks into the braids so they would form a sailor’s ladder up the mast of her body to her skull where the blond hair pulled and the scalp turned red. Caroline walked in the muddy sunset light to the middle of a nearby field where sometimes kids played soccer and sometimes they flew kites and sometimes they would lie in the grass and make sense of the clouds. Caroline stood in the middle of the field and invited the buzzing bugs and spastic flies to climb these ladders. She invited them to make a home in her hair. To nest and cuddle. Her only hope, that when it turned dark, their bodies would light up and she would have made for herself a crown on fire.
ME AND JILL SUMMERS LOVE WHEN SILLY LITTLE CHILDREN WITH JELLY ON THEIR FINGERS AND AROUND THEIR LIPS ASK US IF WE KNOW HOW TO GET TO SESAME STREET BECAUSE YES, WE DO KNOW, WE ARE NOT SHARING AS THAT IS PRIVILEDGED INFORMATION THAT YOU HAVE TO EARN
Jill stood akimbo considering the cardboard box of 12 adorable kittens that had seemingly been abandoned next to this here dumpster. She counted them three times to make sure that it was an even dozen and not a baker’s dozen with one extra kitten thrown in for fun. She counted her hands, she had two. She counted her pockets, she had five. That added up to seven and still left five kittens meowing and pawing and the walls of cardboard and turning their noses at that sour garbage smell. Jill hunched down so it looked as though she was sitting in an invisible chair and she set one kitten on each thigh and one on each shoulder and one on top of her head. And she walked home like this. Delightfully weighted down by 12 adorable, cuddly and fuzzy cutie pie little kittens.
ME AND NATALIE EDWARDS ARE GOING TO KNOCK YOU OUT BECAUSE OUR MOTHERS REQUESTED THAT WE KNOCK YOU OUT
Natalie held the taco in her right and a 32 oz Coca Cola in her left. The taco quickly losing it’s battle for existence in the fury of Natalie’s bites and intermittent nibbles to catch any stray thread of avocado or onion or cheese or bean juice or sour cream or tomato or onion or cilantro or salsa or jalapeño or grease. She held the straw of the Coca Cola close enough so that any coughing or wrong tube emergency would be easily remedied by the ready availability of carbonated delight. Natalie was sitting in this corner booth celebrating the end of a raw and red sunburn that had lived and died on her shoulders. The resulting sepia tones of her skin showed no sign of the peeling, the shedding of skin that seemed to last weeks. Now her shoulders were smooth and soft and just aching to be touched by fabric. She was celebrating the morning, when she pulled her cardigan over her shoulders and slipped it off again, the grinding pain noticeably absent. She repeated the action. Cardigan on, cardigan off. She felt every little fiber of the cotton move over her skin. She repeated the action to feel it again. And again.
Mary Hamilton
www.inspirationalsportsmovies.blogspot.com
Handle With Care
The Traveling Wilburys