"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.