Sunday, March 27, 2011

"If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry."

(Emily Dickinson)

There was a fire on the street over from mine. I didn't see the fire, just the fire engines, the wet pavement, and the police cars blocking my street.

And it's silly, but I've been just staying in the back room, where I can't see the flashing lights and tiptoeing over to the front room, to check in every so often.

A little bit ago, I tiptoed over. Seeing that all the police cars blocking the street were gone was not as comforting as seeing Max get out of his red Mazda.

I guess ex-boyfriends are good for something.

He'll put the trash cans out on sidewalk, and all will be well with the world.


Sarah Louise said...

There are no trucks. It's as if nothing happened on my street except that Max came home from work and put out the trash cans.

Jennifer said...

I would like to know more about Max! Also, that is lovely. I do the same thing.