21 to go
You'll be shearing the burn fields
He's planting more Doug firs. He's letting grass grow longer
There's no new generation of christmas tree farmers
It's a big gamble. Maybe you'll think I'm ugly or too loud
That plant is staying alive through my own force of will. I will not give up on it
Fish see me and swarm, snack time
The seltzer bottle sits blue-pink empty on the coffee table
I remember going to that house party, some kind of celebration beneath a possibly-burning tree. Who was I with when I ate the old cookie. Lights moved on trees in summertime. Walked home early morning alone. I'm glad I don't drink so much any more
He swaddles himself in blue
I brought him home and then acted surprised. Same for him, and him, and him
You'd think I'd learn
Wish we could go to Leadville tomorrow
Oh come, let's not be dramatic
I tried to hang the birdhouse today. The strap broke and now the black hook won't fit through the metal. Now who knows when it will happen
The farmer says, you wouldn't work the same job for years without a salary increase
I tell him, you deserve some pleasure and some fun
It's hard to seem young without drinking
I pour bourbon from the high cupboard, for personal reasons
If only I hadn't rolled all those sevens. I'm so different now from how I used to be
It's getting harder again
For a few months there he edited the literary magazine