dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Thursday, November 26, 2015

happy thanksgiving, Frida

I'm lying in bed while family is in the living room and kitchen. Maybe the backyard too. It's dusk of some kind--nautical dusk maybe?  I can't tell whether a thread is blue or black. I'm full from dinner and headachy. I feel disconnected. But Ming's here with me. 

I'm wearing my favorite socks. That always guarantees a good showing. They're my yellow Frida Kahlo sox. 


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