up early this morning again, again, letting the cat out into the darkness soon to be rain.
my camera sits still, stays quiet, no photographs documenting these days. i just have words, and they are fleeting, fractious, naughty, playing hide and seek, and i just let them. i am a bad word mama lately - i just let them loose and don't even try to rein them in. i let them stomp through puddles and sit in cars with their seatbelts unfastened and i just look away if i see cigarettes dangling from their fingers. they eat candy for supper and apple pie for breakfast and i even offer them cokes or coffee to wash it all down. they stay out late and come in noisy.
i have no idea when they had extra keys made.
they make mistakes and text me misspelled lies. i laugh and roll my eyes and open another can of paint; yesterday dipped a red glass heart in fat white paint, smothered it covered it laughed at it dripping, my fingertips drying fast. the words don't understand, they think i'm silly, i embarrass them, and they cover their mouths, giggling at me, refusing to take part. i agree with them, but i like the silliness, i am too old to anymore care that the breeze blows paint onto my skin. i wear it as a tattoo that disappears with the days, knowing another will soon take its place.
the words sip beer and sit under the cloudy skies, drinking in rain and cursing the mosquitoes, saving their stories for later. i know they will come in, i know they will be back. they will bring pictures of their adventures, and say nice things about the chairs i am painting, the circles i am cutting, the figure eights i am moving in.
daylight now and gray and chilly on my toes. the phone shows 67°. the catawba tree across the street glows yellow green in the wet air, shimmers when the wind shakes left over raindrops from its leaves. the cat is almost asleep on the aqua chair, an outward facing circle, ears always on alert. a fire truck passes in the distance.