we_tend_to_call_her_mother native persimmon Now it so happens on a day like this (winter wind caressing the evergreens but slamming into the kitchen window slabs and whistling_all_the_way) while I am inside chopping vegetables, more specifically carving out red bell pepper_bracelets, I get to feeling I’ve abandoned her. And how sad of me to do so in her most frigid, fruitless, solitary months of dried death sticking straight up out of her and most days I ignore it (some days when it is bright I think of visiting and even change my shoes, but ultimately I say it’s no_good to_go_alone). Sweet pepper juice in my mouth and an intrusion of a second thought leaves me painted worse – How is it I dare, what a mighty presumption that I proclaim myself a traitor! Me boasting that she and I share a mutual friendship. How endearing I must seem to her, a leech, pretentious, allaying my guilt of destruction however I can. Spring she will become (and, take note, without soliciting help from me). I will twirl shamelessly until I am far too dizzy to remember a transgression or debt. 070103 ... crOwl bravo 070103 what's it to you? who go blather from