Giving semi-solace to mock sadness during a fast song.
Salmon, smoked salmon, on that salad, please (as a smart choice).
Shiva playful poses through a mist frosted bathroom’s glass pane.
Hard plastic inside soft plastic rattling of kinship to say hey, me too.
The drawer openings and closings, faucet openings and closings, day over day would hit a rhythm more measured than the most meticulous drummer. Not a rhythm that shakes the world, but a pulse.
