Saturday, January 3, 2009
We forget the need &the desire &the comfort of communal solitude. how it comes so easily to our little bones to stay &work &work&work-ad nauseum.
but you wake up a little bit too early, &drop off your dear at the plane station [you secretly hope it leaves without them], &drive back home, &fall back asleep.
&wake up again.
then you drive&drive&drive some more...to a significantly inconsequential town that had a winning high school baseball team in 1999 or 2000. &you make jokes about the paved road in the middle of the red, packed down dirt-clay road that "someone had gotten a little too ambitious over."
&then you wait&wait&wait for a greying Vietnam veteran to explain to you that wolves are not, in fact, agressive. &then you watch one jump on your little sister. because she had gum in her pocket.
&then you walk&walk&walk to the coons, foxes, &skunks. &it has been overcast all day, &secretly you have been worrying that it is going to start pouring and ruin your shoes.
&then you sit down and someone hands you a skunk. So you hold her. Because she is sleepy. [&for the most part, she does not smell bad.]
&most of this time you are wondering how your plane-flying dear is.
But then you remember how you are.
So you ask the woman if it`s legal to own a pet skunk.