sweet_tea bijou perfume. from anthropologie. my new scent. 050624 ... native persimmon I'm telling you that when she visits - the trees, they're unburdening themselves, but while she's here I look out windows and there's firewood drying upright. Day two, maybe, I bear the ceremonious presentation-an embroidered linen dress, a stained jacket: some garb from her happy hippy past, before she married Uncle Mike or Jay or Moose. Now again she's been shopping for one, just enough tortillas and cheddar to last the week. When she visits, we have more, but still she labels the can of water chestnuts with a sharpie; they are for Tuesday's tuna fish salad. Forbidden. G-d Damn, woman. Drag your sullen self back to the Rockies, I've enough of it here down by the bay. But when she's left I find that old beaver's been actively chasing content: forgotten pickle jars of sun-tea strewn in high places and steeping in the heat. 050624 what's it to you? who go blather from