. . . .

Go tell Suzanne she's awesome. Go. Right now. Suzanne? You really are awesome. You're going to Miami. You beautiful Cuban you.

***

In my dream you called me honey, you said hold on honey--we were on the phone as we sometimes are--when someone walked in your door and started talking to you. And in the dream I thought the dream has dreamed you wrong for you would hardly call me honey and though it's a good dream I am therefore only dreaming, we are not really on the phone, and I looked at the phone in my hand in the dream and saw it was not a phone but a funny thing that made music which I placed on the sill supposing it might yet ring, though all it did was play a tinny transistor radio song fizzling with static, and the dream ended abruptly, fleeing from my dreamer's scrutiny.

***

Walked into my sunny kitchen from the gym, the light glancing off the surfaces--the snow outside, the glass and chrome and steel and wet sink and countertops--and I couldn't see for all the light.

My legs (really) hurt.

***

&.

***