trash kerry the grass along the parkway was especially green. across from the parkway are rows of crumbling mansions, three and four storeys tall, bricks the color of blather_red. tattered turrets and porches missing steps, boarded-up windows. on a corner a vacant lot had become a miniature landfill--mattresses, stripped bicycles, plastic bags mashed-rained-stomped-rolled together to make some kind of waste_paste. we passed through a neighborhood with quiet, faceless little houses, free-standing, neglected toys in the driveways. on one lawn was a black blot, another filmy garbage bag. It turned out to be a kitten. 210807 ... kerry i do not understand--how do they/you/we do it? the kitten we saw, i understood that. i thought it was a plastic bag but it was not. i understand that i love you but not how, and i don't understand why i'm unable to describe it, not the way i wish i could, how i used to be able to talk about love. is it you or is it me? i think it will always be me, no matter how much you give me of you, no matter who you are. you feed the dog potato chips and i don't understand it and i know i talk about my dad too much, i'm sorry i trust you completely but i don't know if you really understand me like you say or think you do-- why i get scared that a little clutter doesn't bother me that lack of words doesn't mean lack of feeling 210807 ... kerry we picked up trash this morning. i was wearing my red puffer jacket and he had those green nubby fingerless gloves and we each had our long grabber that we got at home depot when we lived in point breeze, where bits of garbage roll down the road like tumbleweeds. there was a ragged-looking woman all in black, her hair wild and unkempt, hobbling like bertha mason. she was banging on the front door of this house near the end of the block. in the front window you can only see broken blinds, and sometimes a black and white cat that wedges itself under the blinds and onto the sill. she was screaming let me in, let me in you fucking assholes! and then she’d sit on the stoop and grumble and i guess talk on the phone but i tried not to stare— where do you think i am?! why are you doing this to me?? we were picking up cigarette butts and flattened newspapers and candy wrappers, dime bags, a little girl’s sock. the screaming and muttering continued. it’s almost funny, said the_autodidact. almost. 220113 what's it to you? who go blather from