in which Megan sits and sees a view during Lent 2011
I hear the bell meditation in a different spot on the invisible clock of my mind. Yesterday, it was at 7. Today, it was 2. Same bell. Different spots in the arc of tone.
Same spot–the back of the truck, but six hours later. The sun is behind me.
I kick off my sandals. Sun my toes. Blue veins in my feet. My pencil feels heavy.
John pounded in the nails on the storage buildig. Now he can side it.
Lord, no more stickey-outey things in me, please.
Thirsty. Dizzy. Need shade tomorrow.
Show’s over. Shoes warmed.