Sunday, March 18, 2012

the creative thinker stARTs:

My heart is swollen. I have so much here I don’t know what I’m meant to do with it all.  I wipe the days' crust from the corner of my eyes and I gather a frame of mind.

You are overwhelmed, he says. 
I pretend to ignore his limited perspective of the situation.
What ever you do, you will not starve.  He smiles and nudges my arm as if he's made a joke.
I return the smile and find comfort in his inability to add worry to my moment. 
Time passes like thoughts pressed into a juicer.  Loud noises and life take-over: the phone rings, the fridgerator hums; the cat bellows from the basement  and I listen for a call in return.
Your key board is so quiet, he finally says.

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